


Disclosure

by thecutestprince



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecutestprince/pseuds/thecutestprince
Summary: Christine Canigula thought she loved Jeremy Heere. Michael Mell knows he loves Jeremy Heere. Still, despite how (un)certain you are of your feelings, it's despicably unclear which one's you choose to act on, and how.Christine wants to get closer to Michael. She gets a little closer than anticipated. It's fun, for a while. Then, things start to get messy. She's convinced that everything is entirely her fault, and fails to see that things were shitty and fogged up before she even meddled in the first place.(Includes trace amounts of Rich/Jake, weed, and some possible Chloe/Brooke. Read on to find out more!)





	1. Chapter 1

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Check!

Great! Jeremy had fulfilled his one duty in the brownie-making operation. He stared at the red numbers, his finger hovering over the START button.

What if it wasn’t 350? What if it was 375, or 325? He should double-check, right?

He should double-check.

“Hey Christine, do you have the recipe with you?”

“Yup!” Christine called from her station on the kitchen island. She was already cracking eggs over a bowl filled with sugar and melted butter. “It’s right here on my phone.” She motioned towards it with her chin.

“I thought you said you knew the recipe by heart.”

“I do! I just like to have it here, just in case.”

Jeremy smiled. That was such a Christine thing to do, memorizing texts and leaving the texts within arms-reach, regardless of her impeccable memory.

“How much should I preheat the oven to again?”

“Three-fifty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Jeremy placed his arms behind his back and slowly made his way to the kitchen island, innocently eyeballing Christine’s phone. “Still,” he said, smirking, “I should double-check, juuuust to make sure-“

“Jeremy, I already told you, it’s three-fifty. Don’t look at my phone!” She would snatch it away, but she didn’t want to dirty the phone with her fingers, now tainted with a thin, thin layer of egg white.

“Too late!” Jeremy said, snatching the phone in his own hands. He scrolled through it until he found the direction: Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. “Cool.” He placed the phone back, then slid over to the oven, his socks gliding pleasurably across the smooth kitchen tile. Finally, he clicked the START button. The oven came alive with red light, and its interior began to glow with warmth.

Jeremy went back to the island, and picked a spot across Christine. He looked at her station. Everything was set neatly, each item two inches apart, not too far, not too close. Everything was pre-measured, a task she finished before he had the chance to take off his shoes. She really did have the brownie making method memorized.

“I’m glad you’re doing this.”

“What, making you brownies?”

“Yeah, well. I mean, no. You’re making _Michael_ brownies.”

Christine’s eyebrows raised, though her eyes stayed steady on the bowl of brownie batter before her. She was already whisking the batter to perfection. “These are for Michael?”

“Yeah, they’re for his birthday. He doesn’t really like cake, he’s more of a brownies guy, especially when they have-“

“Wait, wait. Wait.” She stopped her whisking to stare at him. “It’s Michael’s birthday? I thought his birthday was-“

“March 7th, yeah. But he keeps figuring out my surprises before I have a chance to show it to him! So, I’m definitely gonna surprise him this time. We’re gonna celebrate it early, and he’ll never see it coming!” Jeremy smacked his hands together, rubbing them up and down against each other. He would look cunning, if he didn’t look so dorky.

Christine laughed, her laugh coming out in a soft snicker. She went back to whisking, and asked, “When are you celebrating? Tomorrow?”

Jeremy blinked at her. He frowned. God, she was gonna freak.

“Today.”

She let go of the whisk, smacked her hands against the island countertop, and looked at him with wide, frantic eyes. “Today!?”

“I’m sorry! I thought I told you!”

“No, Jeremy, you didn’t tell me, because I would’ve written it down, and I would’ve bought him a present, and I- _Why didn’t you tell me?!_ ”

Jeremy shielded himself from her wrath. She was a teeny, tiny person, but the shorter the person, the less diluted their rage was. He knew Christine wasn’t angry, though. She was masking worry with a thin cloud of anger, concentrated mostly on cherry red cheeks.

“I _thought_ I _did_ ,” Jeremy repeated. “I’m sorry, Christine. You really didn’t have to get him anything, anyways.”

Christine inhaled deeply, and went back to the task at hand. She grabbed the buttered, parchment paper lined eight-by-eight pan and began to fill it slowly, meticulously, with brownie batter. Jeremy watched with careful eyes. His brow was sweating under Christine’s heavy silence.

“Christine-“

“He already doesn’t like me, Jeremy,” Christine sighed, scraping at the last of the brownie batter from the mixing bowl. “And now that I didn’t buy him a present- I didn’t even dress properly for this event-“

“Whoa, Christine, wait,” Jeremy said, walking over to her. He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Christine kept her gaze on the brownies. She smoothed out the top of the batter. “What do you mean, Michael doesn’t like you? Of course Michael likes you!”

“No, he doesn’t,” she mumbled, low. “I can tell he doesn’t.”

“Michael is like, the chillest guy I know. Why would he hate you?”

“That’s just the way he is with everyone, though! It’s like a barrier, you know? He’s super laid-back and mild-mannered because he doesn’t want to get any closer with me.”

Christine began to gather up all of the dirty bowls and spoons, stacking them on top of each other. She could feel Jeremy’s gaze on her, waiting for her to keep talking. Elaborate.

This had been something that had been bugging her for quite some time. She hated that Jeremy’s best friend wasn’t her friend. It felt like she couldn’t be close with Jeremy, like it wasn’t allowed, because Michael didn’t approve. It was like a prerequisite. Without fulfilling such a prerequisite, she was destined to slip away from Jeremy.

“Sorry,” she muttered, turning on the water. “I didn’t mean to say all of that, I just… It sucks when someone’s best friend doesn’t like you. His opinion just… means a lot to me, that’s all.”

Before Jeremy could say anything, the oven beeped. 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Check.

“Could you, uh, put the brownies in the oven. Please?”

“Sure,” Jeremy said. He carefully grabbed the pan of brownies and walked them over to the oven. After placing them inside, he set the kitchen timer.

“Was it thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Twenty-five to thirty minutes.”

He set it for twenty-seven.

“I’ll make the frosting right now, then I’ll head out.”

Jeremy swiveled on his heels to turn to her. “Wait, no, Christine. You have to stay! Hang out with us!”

She grabbed the kitchen towel and wiped her hands with it. “Jeremy, I didn’t even get him a present, and I’m not dressed-“

“We’re _just_ pigging out and playing videogames. That’s all,” Jeremy said firmly. “Please stay, Christine. It’ll mean a lot to me.”

Christine looked up at him, at his sad, puppy dog eyes. Damn it, why did she look at them? She already knew they always reeled her in.

“Fine, I’ll stay.”

“Yes!” Jeremy cheered. He even pounded his fist in the air. Christine snorted.

“Dork.”

 

“Jeremy!” Jeremy’s dad called out. “Michael’s here!”

He pulled the door open, and Michael stood before it, his hands gripping at the straps of his backpack. “Hey, Mr. Heere.” His eyes went straight to his jeans. “Nice pants.”

“Hi Michael.” He stepped aside, letting Michael into the house. “You don’t have to say that every time we see each other.”

“Sure I do,” Michael said, and pointed at the stairs winding up. “He in his room?”

“Yep, go on ahead.” He walked off back to the living room. “Happy Birthday, Michael,” he threw the phrase over his shoulder.

Michael gave a confused grin. “Thanks? You… you too.” He ran up the stairs, skipping two at a time. Glass sounds tinkered from his backpack.

“Jeremy!” Michael shouted, almost singing his name. He decided to sing it the second time. “Je-re-my He-ere! Guess who’s he-ere!”

His door was closed shut, which was kind of weird. Maybe he was jacking off? Then, should he knock?

Nah!

He twisted the door knob and threw Jeremy’s door open. “Michael’s here!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Jeremy and Christine jumped up and threw tiny, confetti filled balloons into the air. There were blue and red banners strung throughout Jeremy’s room, and it was actually clean for once! One of the balloons hit Jeremy’s ceiling fan. The loud smack made Christine and Jeremy jump back.

Michael laughed, dumbfounded. “What the hell? It’s not my birthday!”

“That’s the surprise!” Jeremy said. His voice cracked at the end; he was excited as hell, and clearly proud of himself. Michael grinned. He couldn’t stop grinning.

“You’re amazing.”

“Wait!” Jeremy exclaimed, holding out his hands. “Wait. Hold your compliments. There’s more.”

Jeremy scurried over to his closet door, and began to rummage. Christine watched with bright eyes. She loved it; she loved how cute Jeremy got with Michael, how much his love and friendship spilled from his proud grins. Christine looked over to Michael, who’s eyes kept steady on Jeremy. Christine tried smiling his way, hoping he’d look at her and maybe smile back. He didn’t. Christine’s smile faltered.

Was he trying not to look at her?

She should try talking to him. Christine opened her mouth to speak, but then Jeremy was shouting, holding a poorly wrapped box in his arms.

“This is for you!”

Michael’s eyes were full of stars. “You got me a _present?!_ ”

“Duh I got you a present!” Jeremy placed the present on the edge of his bed. Christine stepped aside, allowing Michael more than enough space to feel comfortable opening his present. She didn’t want to hover too closely. She already felt like an outsider to this celebration.

She really should have left after she finished making the brownies.

Michael tore off the Christmas wrapping off the box. “So, this is kind of like an extra Christmas present?”

“It’s your birthday present.” Michael pouted. Jeremy sighed. “I’ll get you something else on your actual birthday.”

Satisfied, Michael tore through the taped box and fumbled past heaps of foam peanuts. When he saw it, he squealed. He literally squealed. Christine covered her lips to hide her smile.

“YOU GOT ME. THE PIKACHU EDITION. N64.” Michael stared at it with wide eyes and a slack jaw. The blue plastic of the system, the lack of dust in the air vents. Pikachu, grinning at him, with red cheeks he knew lit up once he turned on the system via the pokeball on-and-off switch. He dug further and found two controllers, and three games. Hey You! Pikachu, Ocarina of Time, and Majora’s Mask.

He looked up at Jeremy, and he was teary-eyed. He could honestly spill into full out sobs.

Jeremy stared back at him with a huge grin. He was waiting for a response; his cheeks hurt from how happy he was.

“I LOVE IT!” Michael stepped over Jeremy’s bed, leaped off, and threw himself into Jeremy’s arms. Though caught off guard, Jeremy managed to catch the bundle of love and energy without falling back onto the ground. He may or may not have thrown out his back, though.

Michael hugged Jeremy, squeezed the life out of him, even. He was like a koala bear, hugging and hugging and laughing from how happy he was. He couldn’t believe it. An N64! Pikachu edition!

Michael pulled away from the hug. “Where did you find this?!”

“My cousin sold it to me,” Jeremy said, setting his friend down. “Thirty bucks.”

“Oh man,” Michael laughed. He snorted, even. “What a dumbass!”

“I know, but I’m not about to tell him that. Let’s play!” Jeremy looked over at Christine. She was peering hesitantly into the box. “Do you wanna play, Christine?”

Christine’s eyes shot up, surprised. “What? Oh, uh, no thanks! I’ll just watch you guys.”

Jeremy shrugged. “If you’re sure.” He grabbed the box with the N64 and headed towards his TV. “We made you brownies, Michael, if you want.”

“Brownies?!”

“Oh, yeah!” Christine said, turning towards Jeremy’s study desk. “They’re right over here.”

“Are these-“ Michael paused, for dramatic irony, “- _special_ brownies.”

Jeremy snorted. “No. Christine made them. She’s never touched a weed in her life.”

Michael looked at her with eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yep!” Christine placed one hand over her heart, and the other palm raised. “Never touched a weed.”

“Well…” Michael reached for his backpack. “I could always initiate you,” he said, and from his backpack, he pulled out his bong.

“You know, I was the one who got Jeremy to smoke his very first weed.”

Christine smiled. “I’m not surprised.” Whether Jeremy smoked or not was kind of a guessing game amongst most people. Some guessed that, yes, Jeremy smoked, because he had regular access to weed via Michael Mell. An equal amount of people guessed that, no, Jeremy Heere, perfect attendance shy guy Jeremy Heere, would most certainly never, _ever_ smoke weed, despite being so close to Michael. Christine didn’t really care either way.

“I remember that day,” Jeremy said. He was plugging the N64 into a wall adapter. “I ended up getting too high so I fell asleep wearing three of Michael’s hoodies.”

“I still need those back, by the way. One of them was my Smash Mouth hoodie.”

Jeremy groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He clicked his TV on and flourished at it with a wave of his hands. “She’s ready.”

Michael gasped deeply, one that came from his excited rib cage. He snagged three brownies from the pan and practically threw himself onto the bean bag chair. Jeremy occupied the one next to him, a motion as natural as breathing, as running fingers through hair.

Christine hung back. She grabbed a brownie and sat uncomfortably on the farthest edge of Jeremy’s bed.

“So, you two lovebirds planned this together?”

Jeremy groaned again. “Dude, stop calling us that. ‘s embarrassing.”

Michael chuckled. “I know it is. That’s why I call you guys that. Lovebirds.”

“For three entire seconds,” Christine piped in.

“It was _two weeks_ , guys. And those two weeks meant a lot, fuck you guys.”

Both Christine and Michael fell into a small fit of laughter. The sound of it, of their comfortable laughter mixing together, made Christine’s chest feel free, no longer tight and tense. He was warming up to her. A bit.

“What are we playing first?” Michael asked.

“I figured we could play around with Pikachu first. To honor him and his system.”

“Yes, of course. Do you guys have water?”

Christine reached over the side of the bed and pulled at a small cooler. She opened it, grabbed three caprisuns, and nudged it shut. “Here.”

Michael peered back at her. “Sweet! Caprisuns, brownies, and weed. When can we smoke?”

“In a few,” Jeremy responded. His attention was mostly on the screen. “Wait until my dad passes out watching Cutthroat Kitchen, or whatever it is he watches.”

Michael hummed his response. He, too, became extremely interested with the title screen. The introduction of the game would be easy enough to get through. It only really got fun once they unlocked the first set of mini-games.

Christine wasn’t sure what to say. She felt heavy there. Her breathing made too much noise. She felt far away, yet distinctively _there_ , taking up space.

She felt pressured to speak. To be interesting. “Hey, are you guys going to Chloe’s party?”

“Chloe’s throwing a party?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah! I mean, normally Jake throws the first party of the school year, but since his house burned down-“

“I can’t believe you still hang out with them,” Michael said.

“With… Chloe?”

“Chloe, Brooke, Jake, all those guys.” When he listed off their names, he sounded annoyed. His tone belittled her.

“They’re fun to hang around,” Christine responded softly. She defended herself, but it was a weak defense.

“You hang out with Rich,” Jeremy said. Christine smiled, glad that he was defending her, too.

“That’s different,” Michael said. “Rich is actually a pretty nice guy.”

“Who’s to say Jake isn’t? Or Chloe?”

Michael stayed silent for a while. “Whatever.”

The two went back to their game. Christine stared at her hands.

Welp. That conversation failed. She almost sighed, but she didn’t. She didn’t want them to know how out of place she felt. She peered back at the box Michael’s present was in. 

“Can I look at the other games?”

An entire ten seconds passed before one of the two boys snapped out of their video game haze to answer Christine. “Yeah, sure,” Michael mumbled. “Where’s the mic?”

“Oh shit, right.” Jeremy stood from his beanbag chair and went over to the box. Christine watched as he shuffled through the packing peanuts. He pulled out a thin, tiny microphone that looked more like a pencil than a microphone. He fished out two cartridges and handed them to Christine.

She held the two cartridges. She had never owned an N64. The last videogame console she owned was a navy blue DS, with Kirby Super Star Ultra and Nintendogs. She could probably still find it, if she searched deep enough through her attic.

“Majora’s Mask.” The cartridge was golden, and the sticker on it was holographic. Kind of tacky.

“Maybe it’s haunted,” Michael said.

“Why would it be haunted?” Christine asked. “Do N64 games regularly get haunted?”

Michael and Jeremy exchanged looks.

“You mean, you never heard about Ben?” Michael turned his body to look at her. The fact that neither of them were interested in their video game was interesting to Christine.

She raised an eyebrow. “No, never.”

“Oh man. Can’t believe you don’t know Ben,” Jeremy said.

Christine stared at them. “Who’s Ben?” She felt like there was no Ben. But she really wanted to know.

“Ben’s this kid who lived on my street.” Michael broke off a piece of his brownie and popped it in his mouth. He spoke around it. “He drowned.”

“He drowned?”

“Yeah, but no one knows if it was a suicide,” Jeremy said. “His dad could’ve drowned him.”

“Or that old dude.”

“Right, right.”

“What old dude?”

“Well,” Michael began. “My brother knew this guy who loved video games. He had an N64, like this one, except not as cool, obviously. Anyways, he went garage sale hunting, looking for games, and this old guy had a bunch of weird shit littered around. Like, obscure paintings and weird drawings. The old man had this foggy eyeball, like he was blind.” Michael pulled down the skin around his right eye. Christine grimaced.

“The old man had a couple N64 games,” Jeremy continued. “Including that one.” He pointed at the game Christine was holding, golden with a holographic image. Tacky. Christine flipped it over in her hands once more.

“Specifically this one?”

“Hopefully not,” Michael shuddered.

“He had a copy of Majora’s Mask,” Jeremy said. “And Michael’s brother’s friend was stoked, because Zelda N64 games are super good finds at garage sales. And the old man gave it to him for free! So, he took it home, and he started playing.”

Michael, again, took control of the narrative. “There was already a save file on the game. It was Ben’s, the kid who died. Except, he didn’t know he died yet, he just thought maybe it was the guy’s grandkid or something.”

“It _could_ be the guy’s grandkid,” Jeremy said.

“Right! Anyways, he made a new file and started playing. But the game started glitching out on him.”

“It would call his character Ben,” Jeremy said.

Then Michael. “So, he deleted the save file.”

Then Jeremy. “But it kept happening.”

Then Michael. “They kept calling him Ben.”

“That’s creepy,” Christine mumbled, slowly placing the cartridge aside. In that moment, she had entirely forgotten that this story was more than likely false. But then again, maybe it wasn’t.

Michael smirked. “It gets worse. They would call him Ben, or sometimes, they would call him nothing. And then, as he was trying to finish the game, it glitched out on him again and sent him to the final boss area. One of the enemies, this like, creepy scarecrow looking guy, was just staring at him, floating above him. Nothing else would happen. The guy would move his character around, but the enemy’s eyes would just follow him, and he still wouldn’t do anything.”

“Since the game was glitchy, he was going to turn off his console and just restart it,” Jeremy explained. He paused, licking his lips, wiping his palms on the knees of his pants. “But then this dialogue pops up, and it’s not _supposed_ to pop up. It’s like, the game was trying to talk to him, telling him not to restart his game, to just give it a try.”

“The game teleports him back to the main town,” Michael said. “And the town was all glitchy. Parts of it were missing, literally replaced with void space, and the towns people were all gone. The town is usually full of life but it was literally dead and decaying, and it’s not supposed to be like that. It usually plays this upbeat song when you enter the town, but instead, it was playing this other song, the Song of Healing, but it was playing it in reverse, so it just sounded… jarring.”

“It constantly felt like something was going to pop out at him but… it never did.” After Jeremy said this, Christine felt her back go rigid, her spine turn to ice. She picked at the back of her hand with the stiff ends of her fingers.

“And then this statue started following him around,” Jeremy continued. “This statue is supposed to pop up when you play a song on your ocarina, but it was just popping up on his own, right behind the character. The statue looks exactly like the character, except lifeless and artificial and dead.”

“It started chasing him around,” Michael said. “He’d step forward, and the statue would reappear right behind him, following him.”

Christine did not want to be sitting next to that cartridge. But she didn’t want to seem ridiculous by standing up, sitting somewhere else, or pushing the cartridge under a pillow. Out of sight, out of mind. She felt like something was behind her, or somewhere, anywhere. Watching.

Jeremy spoke. “He eventually wound up with Skull Kid again. That scarecrow guy. And so he tries shooting at him, with his bow and arrow, but the scarecrow guy doesn’t like that. So he throws his character up in the air, sets him on fire, and he dies.”

“And no one’s able to do that, by the way,” Michael said. “No one’s supposed to be able to just lift you up and set you on fire. That’s not a move in the game. The scarecrow guy doesn’t really do much to you in the first place! But now, he’s watching you, attacking you, setting you on fire without even touching you.”

“Guys,” Christine said, finally standing up. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “Even retelling it is pretty freaky. Jesus.”

“Right,” Michael agreed. All three of them felt heavy, surrounded by thick air. “Let’s keep playing with Pikachu.”

The two boys returned to their game, silently immersing themselves back to the intro of their Pokemon game. They were still somewhat detached from it, though. They were trying not to think about Ben, and just by trying, it wasn’t working. It was there, behind them, running fingers through their hair. Tugging at one strand. Was that for real, or did they imagine it?

Christine took this chance to slide the cartridge away from her. She felt uneasy, and she knew why. She wanted to know what happened.

“So,” Christine finally broke the silence, “What happened to him. To your brother’s friend?”

Jeremy and Michael looked at each other. They paused the screen.

Together, they told her the entire story of Ben. How he was trapped in the game cartridge, how he spread onto his brothers “friend’s” computer, how he communicated with him. They told her everything, and then offered to show her the footage of the haunted game.

“No thanks,” Christine laughed nervously. “I’m already going to be nervous on the drive home. I feel super creeped out!”

“I know,” Jeremy agreed. “We read this story years ago and it still freaks us out.”

“You read it?” Christine asked. She pointed at Michael. “I thought your brother knew him.”

Jeremy and Michael exchanged looks again.

Busted.

 

Jeremy: you home yet?

Christine: yeah, made it home! i literally ran inside and up to my room so fast, you wouldn’t believe.

It was nearing 11 pm. She was wrapped tightly under a blanket, squeezing a plush toy lady bug to her chest. She had the tv on, so that she wouldn’t be alone in the loud ambient noises of her room that would only attract her mind towards thinking more about Ben.

Jeremy: sorry we freaked you out :/

Christine: no, honestly, it’s fine!! it was actually pretty interesting. it’s fake though, right?

Jeremy: i mean, sure? honestly, I buy it

Christine: really?

Jeremy: i buy it! it creeps me out way too much for me to deny its existence. it has an effect on me. its gotta be real

Christine: thanks Jeremy. i was trying to convince myself that its fake, but now, i can’t even do that!

Jeremy: sorry :/

Jeremy: but hey!! do you think still think michael hates you?

Christine: yeah

Christine: i mean! It’s not that he HATES me. it’s that, you know, he doesn’t LIKE me. he would rather not hang around me, but he has to, because of you. i don’t want to be dead weight to him.

Jeremy: im sorry. I mean, i never saw it that way. i guess he just needs more warming up to

Christine scrunched up her nose. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her lady bug plush now resting on her stomach. She’d started hanging out with Jeremy last semester, during the fall. They really got close in November, after the play.

After they dated for 2.5 seconds. She grimaced.

Anyways.

After the two of them realized that, no, they weren’t as deeply in love with each other as they thought, the two remained friends, and ended up being _really_ good friends _._ Christine was surprised how well they clicked, how much she enjoyed Jeremy’s company and how much he enjoyed hers. It was different when they were “dating”. There was a pressure there, as if they had to like each other, and they had to be around each other every waking moment, even if they didn’t want to. That pressure made things uncomfortable, like they couldn’t be themselves. When they “broke up”, that weight was lifted, and they could be goofy with each other, and stupid, and hang around and playfully punch each other and not feel like any of it was a romantic gesture because, well, it _wasn’t_.

And it’s not like she started liking Jeremy even more when she decided he was just a friend, and not a boyfriend. The feelings felt exactly the same. She had just confused them for romance. Kind of silly, really.

She would even consider Jeremy her best friend. So, it absolutely _sucked_ that Michael didn’t really like her. The three of them had hung out together a max total of three times. _Maybe_.

Once, Jeremy was hanging out with her, and Michael called him.

“Hey!” Jeremy had answered with such an enthusiasm that it made Christine grin.

“ _Yo! What are you up to?_ ” Christine could hear Michael ask.

“Nothing. I’m just with Christine,” Jeremy responded.

“ _Oh. Alright, sorry to bother you. Talk to you later_.”

“O-oh, alright? Bye.”

How could Jeremy _not_ see it? How could he be so blind? If Michael honestly liked her, he would’ve asked to join them! He would want to be around both of them! But no, he never insists on hanging out as a trio. It always had to be the duo.

And she gets that! She understood, completely, that sometimes, you want to hang out with just your best friend. But the fact that he never tried hanging out with her _and_ Jeremy proved to her that Michael didn’t exactly like her.

It was now January. Two months since she and Jeremy started getting close. 68 days, roughly. How could he _not_ be warmed up to her by now?

Christine rolled onto her side, hugging her lady bug plush close to her chest again.

It was be fine, though. She was determined to get Michael to like her. She was determined to befriend Michael Mell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm posting this at 1:30 AM, but I am.  
> Hi! Thanks for reading the beginning to this fic! Hopefully, since you got this far, you'll enjoy it enough to subscribe to it, to keep up with it, and maybe even comment? Comments are very much appreciated!  
> Chapter 1.5 will be out pretty soon-ish, depending on how many views and comments this gets, as those things will hype me up enough to bust out chapters. Chapter 1.5 is labeled as such because it'll be pretty short, and mostly fluff (maybe angst)?  
> Character and relationship tags are subject to change. I have a general outline of the plot, but I'm still changing things up (Chapter 1.5 was never in the outline, but now, it's happenin'). Other things subject to change include the fic's title, and summary.  
> If you're reading this, and you've never read Ben Drowned, do it. And thank me later. 
> 
> (I'm thecutestprince on all social media platforms. Tumbler, Twitter, Instagram. Feel free to message me at any time!)


	2. Chapter 2

Christine: don’t worry about it! I’ll get him all warmed up in no time :3c

Jeremy: okay??

“Who are you texting?” Michael asked. He was taking a break from the frustrating mechanics of Hey You! Pikachu, and was prepping a bowl.

“Christine,” Jeremy responded.

“Oh.” And that was that.

Jeremy frowned. Now that he knew what was ailing Christine, he was mindful of Michael’s responses. His ‘oh’ did seem to kind of imply some form of negativity. Maybe Christine was right. Maybe Michael _didn’t_ like her.

He had to find out.

“Hey.”

“Hm.”

“Do you not like Christine?”

Michael stayed silent. He placed most of his focus on not spilling any weed on Jeremy’s carpet. “’Course I like Christine. She’s not awful.”

“Then how come you never hang out with us? With me and Christine.”

Michael sighed, putting aside the grinder. He turned from his position, criss-crossed on the carpeted floor, so that he was facing Jeremy, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed.

“What? Do you think I hate her, or something?”

It wasn’t _him_ who thought that, Jeremy thought to himself. At least, not until recently. “I mean, well, yeah! You never hang out with the three of us, and when you do, it’s because you didn’t even know Christine was a part of it. Like today! Even when we were ‘dating’, you didn’t really-“

Michael cut him off. “Jeremy, look, I already told you I like her, alright? So what if I don’t hang out with you guys? I’m just giving you guys your privacy.”

“We don’t need that anymore, Michael. We aren’t ‘dating’ anymore.”

“Will you just _let it go?_ ” Michael finally snapped. The two boys stared at each other. Michael broke the stare by returning his gaze to his bong. It was ready but, not knowing what else to do with his hands, he began to pack the bowl tighter with his finger.

After a long second of silence, Jeremy sighed. “I just think you should lighten up. She’s been a really great friend to me. Give her a chance.”

Michael didn’t respond. He just grabbed the bong and lighter, then looked over at Jeremy.

“Are you hitting this?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Sure.”

 

After they each took a hit, the two went back to playing Hey You! Pikachu. The task at hand was to help Bulbasaur prepare a stew, and help Pikachu gather those ingredients. To do so, Michael had to speak into the mic, which was connected to his controller. Pikachu would hear his messages, and react in certain ways. Unfortunately, Pikachu was an unhelpful little shit. And having two stoned teenagers direct him did not help the situation at all.

“Pikachu!” Michael shouted into the mic. “Grab. That. Fucking. Onion!”

“Holy shit,” Jeremy said. His head felt full of cotton. “How hard is it to just. Listen to us.”

Pikachu grabbed the onion.

Jeremy gasped. “Oh shit.” A miracle.

“Shit shi- call Magnemite.”

Pikachu was confused. Do what now? Michael wasn’t making any sense to this jumble of odd angles and yellow pixels.

“ _Call Magnemite!_ ” Michael shouted, practically eating the microphone.

Pikachu continued to be confused. Pikachu would forever be confused, and would forever frustrate. He shrugged, tossing the onion aside. Clearly, it wasn’t needed.

“FUCKING PIKACHU YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND GRAB THAT ONION AND CALL MAGNEMITE AND SHOVE IT UP HIS MAGNEMITE ASS YOU ELECTRIC MOUSE MODEST MOUSE BULLSHIT.”

“Oh my god,” Jeremy laughed. His laugh felt cold all throughout his chest. It felt good. “Oh my god, Michael, chill the fuck out.”

“How can I chill?” Michael asked. “When this Pikachu is literally the worst fucking Pikachu alive. He’s literally- he’s asleep. Fucker fell asleep.”

Pikachu was splayed across a pile of leaves, dozing off sweetly. He did not care about the stew. His dreams pertained to other things, more important things.

“Wake him up,” Jeremy suggested. He felt like pushing his hand through the screen and shaking Pikachu awake. The pixels would feel weird on his skin. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew they would feel jagged.  

Michael clicked on the mic. “Pikachu. Wake your bitch ass up. Pi-ka-chu. I will fuck-a-chu up. Oh my god.”

Jeremy snorted, and that goofy snort made Michael fall to laughter as well. “Dude,” Jeremy struggled between giggles. “You are practically deep throating that microphone, oh my god.”

The phrase made Michael laugh even harder, because it felt very true. He couldn’t see himself, but he knew he probably _was_ deep throating that thin, grey microphone. That was hilarious.

The two boys let Pikachu deliver anything he picked up to Magnemite. They knew the stew was going to suck anyways, so they just sent everything to Bulbasaur.

“This is gonna be the shittiest stew imaginable,” Jeremy said.

“I know. Fucking full of leaves and twigs and nuts and bolts and, I don’t know, bird shit, probably.”

“Probably.”

“Like, he’s just picking shit off the ground. Does Bulbasaur wash any of this before using it? We sure as hell aren’t. Pikachu doesn’t care.”

“Pikachu does not give a fuck. About hygiene. About anything.”

“Look at him. He fell asleep again.”

They took another bong rip, then shut the video game off for the night. Jeremy fell onto his bed and Michael began rummaging through Jeremy’s closet for the sleeping bag and extra pillows and blankets. It was already agreed upon the two that Michael would be spending the night. There was no way in hell he was going home now. Not after the retelling of Ben.

The two of them even rewatched the videos as soon as Christine had left. They huddled close to one another, lights off, blanket draped over their shoulders. They were only able to get through one video, though. Watching the videos in the dark made them feel louder, more intense. After the first video ended, they immersed themselves in Hey You! Pikachu, once again trying not to think about the scary story. Despite the fact that the dark made everything worse, they were both too tense to move from each other’s side to go turn the light back on.  

Still, as Jeremy lay on his bed, skin gone soft, he could hear the Song of Healing playing in reverse. It was loud in his ears, and fell into rhythm with his heart beat. In fact, his heart beat felt odd. Too hard. Too loud.

He took in a very deep breath. Shit. He was kind of freaking out.

“Michael.”

His voice was soft, and the noise barely made it through his throat. Michael turned to him and shined his cell phone light at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, this is dumb, I’m sorry.”

Shit. Michael could already tell Jeremy was starting to get paranoid. “No, dude, it’s fine. What’s up?”

Jeremy sat up and looked at Michael with big, big eyes. He was lightheaded. “I’m freaked out a little. This high is not a good one.”

Michael smiled. Poor kid. “Hey, man, don’t worry. If you’re freaking out now, that means it can’t get any worse.”

“I know, I know, I just… Do you mind sleeping with me?”

“Of course, bud.” Michael had already half-expected, half-hoped that he and Jeremy would wind up in the same bed. It wasn’t rare that Jeremy’s anxiety kicked in with his high. He always tried his best to calm him down, and physical contact seemed to do the trick. Michael grabbed an extra blanket and one of Jeremy’s shirts, then went over to sit with Jeremy.

“Did you take off your binder already?"

“Yeah, before we started smoking.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’m changing into one of your shirts, though.”

Jeremy turned his body away from Michael. “How long had you been wearing it for?”

“I was home all day, so I just waited until right before I left to put it on.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Nope.”

Michael pulled on Jeremy’s shirt – it smelled very much like lavender laundry detergent. Jeremy’s clothes always smelled that way: crisp, clean, recently ironed. That was thanks to Mr. Heere, though. If it wasn’t for him, Jeremy would leave the house with a shirt that was as wrinkled as a prune, and he’d smell like beets, not lavender.

“You good?” Michael asked, lying down on the full-sized bed.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m just really fucking high, dude.”

Michael laughed softly. Suddenly, they were both whispering. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, lying down next to Michael. The two faced each other. “Like, my lips are all numb and my eyes are heavy and this blanket feels really good on my body.”

Michael giggled again. “Don’t you feel like this bed could just start floating away, and we’d float with it?”

Jeremy fell silent for a second. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It feels like we could start sinking. Are we?”

“Nah,” Michael reassured him. “Roll onto your stomach.”

Jeremy did as instructed, folding his arms under his pillow and resting his chin against it. Michael slipped his hand under Jeremy’s shirt and began to scratch between his shoulder blades.

Jeremy’s heavy eyelids fell shut, and he sighed contently. Michael smiled at the sound. It made his insides twist into knots.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “Thanks.” He always knew how to make him feel better.

“No prob, dude.” A beat. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. This birthday thing.”

“You’re welcome,” Jeremy whispered softly. “’s ‘cause I love ya, dude.”

Michael smiled. His heart felt big, and his chest was warm. He was high, sure, but hearing such words from Jeremy made him feel sober, almost. “Love you too, duuuuude,” he whispered back.

It was always heavy, saying those words to Jeremy. He meant it, and he was sure Jeremy did, too. But Michael meant it in a different way, a more intimate, romantic way. When Jeremy said it, he meant it in a ‘love you dude, hope we’re friends forever, bro,’ kind of way. And, hey, Michael wanted that too!

If nothing else, he wanted that, too.

Damn. Now he was starting to feel as shitty as Jeremy was. He focused on his hand on Jeremy’s back, on his nails treading trails on his skin.

Okay, actually, that wasn’t helping.

‘God damn it,’ he thought to himself. How long would he have to wait until these feelings subsided?

“Hey,” Jeremy suddenly spoke. It snapped Michael out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“I really want you to like Christine,” Jeremy said. His voice was glazed over with sleep. “She’s really cool. I’m not just sayin’ that ‘cause we dated. She’s nice, I know you’ll like her.”

Michael smiled half-heartedly. He knew Jeremy couldn’t see it. “Go to sleep.”

And he had. He was already dead asleep, despite having spoken a full sentence seconds beforehand. Michael buried his head in his pillow, keeping his hand on Jeremy’s back. He drew circles with his fingers.

Christine dated Jeremy, his best friend, his biggest crush. How was he supposed to get past that, and move towards liking her? Towards tolerating the fact that she was able to openly hold hands with him, even if it was just for two weeks? He felt awful for being spiteful, and now that Jeremy was pushing it, he felt even worse. He was trying to get over his trivial emotions. He really was.

Michael withdrew his hand and rolled onto his side, facing away from Jeremy.

Christine was Jeremy’s first kiss.

When would that stop hurting?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I contemplated between labeling this chapter 1.5, or chapter 2. I initially felt it should be 1.5, because it isn't very lengthy, and not much happens. But then, we end up learning a lot, specifically about Michael, and leaving it at 1.5 kind of feels weird, too. I don't know. Maybe I should compromise, and label it 1.8
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will either upload another chapter this Friday, or next week Monday, depending on how long I take to write it. Also, I'm super excited about this fic. In just 3 days, it got over 200 hits, which might not seem like a lot to others, but to me, well, I'm feeling spoiled. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (also, I hope this isn't too much to ask, but if you're subscribed/going to subscribe, would you mind possibly leaving a comment below? It would really help me gauge things. Thanks again for all your support!)


	3. Chapter 3

Christine Canigula was parked in front of Michael Mell’s household. She had acquired the address from Jeremy. She had also acquired Michael Mell’s phone number, which she was dialing at the moment. She pressed the phone against her ear, peering through the passenger window, waiting.

It rung.

And it rung.

And it-

“Hello?”

“Michael? It’s Christine.”

A long and startled beat of silence. “Christine?”

“Yeah, hi! I was wondering, are you busy right now?”

“Uh… not really, I guess.”

“Cool. Come outside. I’m in the Sentra parked outside of your house.”

“Christine. What the fuck?”

Christine snorted. “Bye.” She hung up the phone, and within the next five minutes, Michael Mell was clicking on his seat belt, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Christine, what’s going on?”

She kept the car in park. She didn’t want to start driving and further freak him out. “We’re hanging out.”

Michael stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I mean, we’ve never hung out, just the two of us. I’m really close to Jeremy, and you’re really close to Jeremy. I figure, it’s time we hung out, us two. Get to know each other.”

Michael blinked at her a couple of times, before turning back to stare at the road before them.

“Okay. Sounds fun.” He didn’t sound convinced.

With that, Christine switched the car into drive and turned the car around.

“So, what are we doing?” Michael asked, pulling out his phone to preoccupy himself. Christine smirked. She knew, once she told him, he would no longer feel so inclined to check his phone. He would drop that phone in shock. It would fall to the floor, and it would shatter, _just_ for dramatic effect.

“Christine.”

“O-oh,” Christine snapped out of her haze. “We’re going to watch a movie at the Cineplex.”

“Ooh, cool,” Michael said, nodding. He scrolled through his phone. “Which movie?”

Christine could hardly contain her grin.

“Pokemon: The First Movie.”

Michael did, in fact, drop his phone. It fumbled on his thighs and fell through the crack between the seat and the shoulder rest. He didn’t move to find it.

“No fucking way.”

Christine glanced over at Michael. His jaw was slack open, edges curled upwards. Christine grinned back.

“Christine. We are _not_ watching Pokemon: The First Movie at the fucking Cineplex. You are _lying_ to me.”

“I’m not,” Christine laughed. “I’m not lying.”

“How?” Michael asked, overjoyed. “How?! It’s not even one of the current showings!”

“I pulled some strings,” Christine answered, vaguely. It made her seem a lot cooler than she really was. “My dad knows some people. So, we are watching Pokemon: The First Movie, in theater seven, the entire theater is reserved for us, and-“

“-And we get to sit in those reclining chairs!” Michael finished the sentence for her. He laughed, excited as hell. “This is so rad.”

“Oh. And free popcorn and slushies, of course.”

Michael looked at Christine with big, wide eyes. “Christine Canigula, I think I love you.”

Christine smiled even wider. “I try.”

 

The two got to the theater and walked right inside without having to wait in any lines. Being able to do that filled Michael with an unnecessary sense of pride. He knew he was exaggerating, but he somehow felt important.

They each grabbed a large popcorn and a slushie, Christine getting the strawberry flavor and Michael getting a mixture of strawberry, raspberry, and watermelon. Christine eyed the slushie with a distaste that she failed to hide from Michael.

“Wha?” he asked, mouth full of slushie. Christine scrunched her nose.

“How can you just… mix all the flavors like that?”

Michael laughed. “Dude, ‘s good. Try it sometime.”

“I’m good,” Christine said. “Mixing three slushie flavors is for the godless.”

Before entering theater seven, Michael bowed, careful not to drop any of his popcorn. “Godless heathen, at your service.”

Christine giggled, and the two walked into the big, empty theater room. Michael cheered loudly, knowing that there was no one around to be annoyed by his unnecessary rowdiness. He sped forward, again, not dropping any of his popcorn. Christine was impressed.

By the time she rounded the corner, Michael was already sitting at the very top row, smack in the middle, pushing the button to bring up the foot rest. He let out a very loud moan in pleasure, and Christine’s face went red.

“You are so unnecessary,” she said, once she got to the aisle.

“Oh come on, look at this!” With a wave of his arm, he motioned to the empty rows of empty chairs and empty arm rests and empty aisles. It felt like it went on for miles. “This entire room is _ours_. Doesn’t that make you just want to scream and shout?”

Christine couldn’t help but laugh. Only because he was absolutely right.

She clicked the button on her seat and brought out the foot rest. She crossed her ankles, stretched her arms out, and let out a pleased sound. Though not as erotic as Michael’s.

Which was, apparently, a grave mistake.

“No, no,” he said. “You gotta really put your back into it.” He curled his back, inhaled deeply, and let out a loud, satisfied groan. Christine laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Before she could try and match up to Michael’s weird noises, the lights began to dim.

“Holy shit it’s _happening_ ,” Michael hissed, propping his knees up to his chest and hugging them.

“Why are you whispering? There’s no one here.”

A beat of silence. “FUCK DUDE YOU ARE TOTALLY RIGHT!”

Christine laughed again, hard enough that a snort came out. Michael heard it, and he laughed, too.

This was good. This was _great_.

 

“Every fucking time,” Michael said, wiping at his face as they exited the Cineplex. “Every fucking time I watch this movie, I have to cry.” He whipped his head to face Christine. “Did you cry?”

Christine grimaced, embarrassed. “Maybe.”

“You _better_ have.”

“I haven’t seen this movie in a really long time!” Christine said. “The nostalgia made it worse.”

“Right,” Michael nodded. “Don’t you ever play a pokemon game and, like, no matter what fucking game it is, the credits roll and you kind of want to cry?”

“I don’t know, I never got that far.” She said the phrase just before entering her car, so she wasn’t able to see Michael’s full expression until she got in her car and buckled in her seat belt. She looked up from the task and saw Michael’s horrified face. He looked truly, terribly offended.

“Christine, what was the last pokemon game you played?” Michael asked the question as if it was the gravest of importance. And it truly was.

Christine turned on the car; cold air hit their puffy, tear-dried faces. “I don’t know, um… Pokemon Ranger?”

“And you _never_ finished it?” Michael asked.

“No,” Christine admitted. “I just got so busy with performances, so I never really had time for video games.”

“When was this?”

“When I was nine,” she responded. Michael clicked his tongue and shook his head, staring ahead of him. Christine pulled out of the parking space.

“Do you have a console?” Michael asked.

“I have a DS _somewhere,”_ Christine strained on the last word. She really wasn’t sure if it was in the attic or somewhere in her room. Maybe she gave it away. She’d have to dig deep.

“Well, if you don’t, I’ll let you borrow my DS. But you _have_ to complete a pokemon game,” Michael urged. “It’s like, a rite of passage. You don’t truly become an adult until you complete a pokemon game you have become fully emotionally invested in.”

“Michael, we’re juniors. We are _not_ adults,” Christine said.

“Pssh, you might not be, since you’ve never finished a pokemon game. But I am, for sure. I’m a full-fledged adult.”

“Alright,” Christine laughed. “Well, if you let me borrow a game, I will try my absolute hardest to finish it.”

“Deal,” Michael said, and fell into a thoughtful silence. He was trying to figure out what pokemon game to let her borrow. Which credit scene hit the hardest?

His eyes widened. He gave a small, devilish grin. He knew Christine couldn’t see it. The grin was entirely for himself, to credit his genius conclusion.

“Okay,” Michael said suddenly. They were almost at his house. “I know what game to give you.”

“Alright.”

“Mhm. Pokemon Mystery Dungeon.”

“Oooh,” Christine awed. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s really great, you get to be a pokemon in it, and you have a pokemon sidekick! And since I’m letting you borrow my game, it’s only fair that you name your sidekick ‘Michael’. Deal?”

“Deal,” Christine agreed, though she wasn’t quite sure yet what she was agreeing to.

They finally came to a stop before Michael’s house. Christine put the car in park, let her hands fall onto her lap, and smiled at Michael.

“Hey…” Michael trailed off, looking over at his house. “Do you want to come in? I can give you the game and you can get started on it.”

Christine’s insides felt warm. It was only days before that she was wondering why Michael didn’t like her enough to want to spend extended periods of time with her. Now, he was willingly extending the time they were spending together!

She was glad, extremely glad. She didn’t expect things to go so well.

“Yeah, sure!” Christine agreed, shutting her car off. Her hand went to the door handle. She noticed that Michael was hesitating. “Michael?”

“Okay, before we go in, I just…”

Christine’s hand fell away from the door handle. The air in the car was heavy. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Michael took in a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Okay. We might run into my parents, and they might… call me by a different name.” He stared at her with unwavering eyes. “Ignore it. Don’t ask about it. Just… My name is still Michael, okay?”

Christine nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I get it.”

Michael smiled. He was glad she did.

Fortunately, they made it up to his room with no confrontations. It seemed like his parents were either gone, or asleep. That was good. He hated any interactions with his parents, especially those which included his friends.

Yep. Christine was his friend now. Wow.

“Sorry for the mess,” Michael announced as they walked into his room. There were clothes scattered across the carpeted floor, but that was it, really. Michael began to kick the clothing towards different corners of the room. “Go ahead and sit where ever.”

Her options were one of two bean bag chairs, a computer desk chair, and Michael’s bed. She opted for the computer desk chair. Michael’s desk top was shut off. There were sticky notes all over the desk, most of them with doodles. She saw a doodle of a dragon hoarding pokeballs. She smiled.

“Okay, got it.” Michael sat across from her, holding a 3DS in his hands. He booted up Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Blue Rescue Team. Christine swiveled her chair so that she was next to him, and they could both easily see the DS screen.

“I haven’t played this game in a while,” Michael said as the title screen appeared. “Mind if I check my stuff out before I delete it?”

“No, go for it! I don’t mind.” She paused. “You have to delete your stuff?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I love video games, but not so much that I’m a tight ass about deleting my save files. I do it a lot for Jeremy so that he can borrow my games, too. Fucker still has Moon with him.”

He clicked on his save file. “I’d never delete my Animal Crossing file, though. Oh my god.” He looked at Christine, a revelation in his eyes. “You would _love_ Animal Crossing.”

She had no idea what Animal Crossing was, but with the look in Michael’s eyes, she was convinced she loved it.

On the DS screen, a Charmander and Squirtle hopped around. “Ahh,” Michael mused. “It’s all coming back to me now. Okay.” He pointed at the Charmander.

“That’s me.”

“You’re Pikachu?” Christine asked. She smiled. “I’m not surprised at all. Who’s the Squirtle?”

“He’s Jeremy,” Michael said with a laugh.

Christine laughed too. “That’s so cute! So you guys, like, saved the Pokemon world together?”

Michael nodded. “More times than once. Okay! Time to start your file.”

He deleted the file without hesitation. If anything, he was excited that Christine would get to play. He was also excited that, once Christine gave it back, he would get to delete _her_ file and play a new file all over again. This cycle is what made video games spectacular to him.

After he deleted the file, he handed the console to Christine. “Fate is in your hands.”

“I am honored, Sir Michael.”

Michael bowed again, and Christine laughed.

“Okay, so, what do I do.”

“New file.”

“Okay- oh.”

“ _Welcome,”_ the screen read. _“This is the portal that leads to the world of Pokemon! But before I can let you through, I have some questions for you. I want you to answer them sincerely. Are you ready? Let the interview begin!_ ”

“Interesting,” Christine muttered. Michael looked on with an engrossed concentration.

The screen went to black to bright, waving colors fading in and out. The music was peaceful, and hopeful. It made her feel like she was in a dream, and a soft voice was interviewing her.

_“You come across a treasure chest! What do you do?”_ it asked.

“Open it right away!” she replied.

_“Do you occasionally consider yourself dull and overly cautious.”_

“Never.”

_“Do you get the feeling that you’ve slowed down lately?”_

“No way.”

_“Are you a boy, or a girl?”_

That one was annoying. Why did she have to be either? “Girl,” she responded.

_“You seem to be… the hardy type!”_

“The hardy type?” Christine asked. Michael nodded. He already knew which pokemon she’d get. He could totally see it. 

_“You do your homework diligently, and you know to eat properly. You have strong willpower that lets you complete tasks, however tough._ ”

“That’s true!” Christine agreed. “Though, I pig out a lot.”

_“But, you can also be stubborn to the point of even feuding with friends… Nothing will go right for you when you’re irritated, so learn to laugh it off._ ”

This was also true! She was working on her stubbornness, truly.

_“A hardy type like you should be…_ ”

“Pikachu!” Christine exclaimed, delighted.

“Congrats!” Michael said. “You got the most basic pokemon ever!”

“Oh, shut up,” Christine laughed. “Pikachu is adorable and everyone can’t help but love him, even if he _is_ kind of overrated.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“What were you?” she asked.

He grinned. “The impish type.”

“And what was Jeremy?”

“When he played, he got Cyndaquil, the timid type.”

“Wow,” Christine mused. “This game is… weirdly accurate.”

The decision came to choose a partner Pokemon. She went through every single Pokemon, and was convinced to pick a partner simply by deciding which Pokemon was the cutest. But because Michael mentioned Jeremy had been Cyndaquil, she was a bit biased.

“Did you choose Cyndaquil because of Jeremy?” Michael asked boldly.

Christine laughed. “Maybe,” she admitted.

Christine quickly progressed with the game, and quickly fell in love. The dialogue, the reactions faces of the Pokemon, the dynamic of the rescue team. She loved everything about the game, and she couldn’t wait to figure out why it was that she was transformed into a Pokemon. She saved the Caterpie, joined her rescue team with Cyndaquil Michael (which she was forced to name Team Meme), and was deep in Mt. Steel when she realized Michael had dozed off.

“I’ll leave after this dungeon,” she silently decided. Michael needed the nap.

After she defeated Skarmory, she snapped the DS close and set it on the computer desk. She looked over at Michael. Still fast asleep. In a moment of devious inspiration, she took out her phone and slowly, carefully, snapped a picture of Michael. She quickly sent that to Jeremy before hiding her phone in her pocket again.

She began to get up from her seat when, distracted, her eyes glanced around at all the sticky notes littered across the desk. Some had simple to do lists, and some had scribbled, obscure sentences. ‘Life is swell!’ and ‘Emily was a bitch’ and ‘Weed cheesecake…?’

There were plenty of doodles, and a lot of them were of Michael and Jeremy. Michael doing a skateboard trick, and Jeremy cheering. A sticky note nearby had Jeremy attempting the same trick, and falling on his face. Another sticky note had a bruised Jeremy, and Michael comforting him. There was another sticky note of Jeremy and Michael holding a huge slushie. Another had Jeremy with cat ears. ‘Jeremy is a Fucking Furry’ was written on the bottom. Christine giggled.

“….Hey.”

Christine swiveled the chair, turning to Michael. He was rubbing at his eyes, the hood of his hoodie fallen over his head. “Hey.”

“I… I fell asleep?”

“You did.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! I was just about to wake you up, but then I was looking at your sticky notes.”

Michael stood up and stretched his arms. He grimaced. His binder was bugging him. He probably should have taken it off upon getting home and just hidden in his baggy hoodie. Oh well.

“Yeah, my desk is a mess.”

“No, they’re cute!” Christine said. She pointed at one of the notes. “I didn’t know Jeremy was a… furry.”

That woke Michael up entirely. His eyes widened, and then he laughed.

“Do you know what a furry is?”

“Yes, I know what a furry is, Michael, what do you take me for?”

He laughed again, scratching the back of his head. “Did you like the game?”

“I did! I’m super into it! I’ll probably play more once I get home.” She stood from her seat, putting the navy blue DS in her pocket. “Thanks for letting me borrow your DS, too. That’s really cool of you.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Michael shrugged as he opened the door to his room. “I have a Majoras Mask 3ds, and a new Mario 3ds, so I’m swimming in these foldable bitches.”

He led her downstairs, and walked her to the front door. It was time for goodbyes.

“Well, thanks for today, Christine, seriously.” He grinned wide. “I was not expecting any of this at all.”

“It’s no big deal. I had a lot of fun!”

A beat of silence.

“Well, I’ll-“

“The party-“

The two laughed.

“You go,” Michael said.

“No, you sounded like you were going to ask something,” Christine offered.

“Right. The party you mentioned the other night. At Jeremy’s. When is that?”

“Oh! It’s the first Friday of the school year.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. Maybe the three of us can go. Me, you, and Jeremy.”

Christine beamed. The last time she mentioned the party, Michael sounded completely over it. She was glad for this change.

“That sounds great!” Christine exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically. Michael didn’t even seem surprised by her enthusiasm.

“I’ll see you later Christine.”

“Yeah. See ya!”

Christine got in her car. She watched as Michael shut the door. Then, she took out her phone. She had a message from Jeremy.

Jeremy: snnzzz. michael is such a dork! of course he would fall asleep while you guys r hangin out!

Christine: lol its fine. I think he doesn’t hate me!

Jeremy: did he let you borrow a videogame?

Christine: yep! pokemon mystery dungeon

Jeremy: :O u r so in.

Christine smiled. She knew Jeremy was poking fun, but she was happy as hell. She really _was_ ‘in’.

Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm really sorry for not updating for a solid month and a half. My summer courses piled up on me hardcore! I was reading 200 pages a day every day. Not fun.  
> But! I'm done with that now, and I'll (hopefully) be regularly updating!  
> This chapter was mostly fluff, huh? Platonic Michael and Christine fluff. Purely self-indulgent, because it contained so many freakin' Pokemon references. I sincerely apologize for how nerdy this fic is.  
> I'm kind of stuck on what to write for the next chapter, but I really hope I can bust it out by Friday. I kind of want to get this fic all written out before classes start up again. We'll see!  
> Thanks to those still here, still reading and still commenting. You guys rock!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo  
> i am back  
> for now

_Jeremy added Christine to the group chat_

_Jeremy added Michael to the group chat_

Christine: hey!!

Jeremy: yo

Michael: hey assholes

Jeremy: >:/

Christine: XD

Christine: whats up?

Jeremy: so… you guys ready for school tomorrow?

Michael: ugh. Im literally dreading it.

Christine: I cant wait!! Im so excited to see what classes we share! and what the first play of the year will be!!

Michael: christine ur fuckn superhuman if ur actually EXCITED for class tmrrw

Christine: welp. I guess im superhuman!

Christine: hey! if you guys want, i can drive you guys to school tomorrow!

Jeremy: O: christine, thatd be super cool!

Michael: yeah. i wont have to take the PT!

Christine: plus its better for the environment d:

Christine: just… please keep it clean.

Jeremy: christine is crazy in love with her sentra

Jeremy: its her child

Christine: its my child, absolutely

Michael: ill try not to eat my breakfast sloppy joe too sloppily then

Christine: >:(

Michael: hey christine, how’re you liking the game?

Christine: I LOVE IT! I’m about to reach the summit of Mt. Thunder!!

Jeremy: oooo

Michael: shit gets real right there

Jeremy smiles a wide grin. He was extremely glad that Christine and Michael were finally getting along. Or, well, Michael finally warmed up to Christine. As he watched the chat, he silently wondered why Michael was so against Christine.

When Jeremy was trying to date Christine, Michael seemed all for it. He was a true friend, giving him advice and courage.

“You have to tell her how you feel,” Michael had said. “The worst she can do is say no, and that’s her fucking loss, because you’re a goddamn catch.”

It was when Jeremy and Christine were dating that Michael seemed to distance himself. He had said it was for privacy reasons, to give the two more space, but…

Just then, his phone rang. It was playing the Green Hill Zone background music. Michael was calling him.

Jeremy picked up the phone. “Y-ello.”

“Blue.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Hey Michael. What’s up?”

“Sleep-over Sunday?”

Jeremy smiled. “Down.”

Michael would be over in thirty minutes. Jeremy went back to the group chat.

Jeremy: hey christine! Tomorrow, you can pick us both up at my place, yeah?

Christine: sounds good! You guys doing something?

Jeremy: yeah! michaels sleepin over!

Christine: sounds fun!

Jeremy: I mean, hopefully it helps me not be late on the first day of the semester

Christine: and if not, ill be able to help you!

Jeremy: haha :^)

She didn’t really know what to say to that, so Christine clicked her phone off and let it drop to her side. She slumped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her stomach sank.

She wished she had something like that. Something as close as Jeremy and Michael. Someone to make plans with in thirty seconds, because they want to be around you constantly. A best friend. She didn’t know why, but she always managed to feel like number two. Fun to be around, but not number one, either.

Christine sat up and exhaled. She shoved away that fiendish feeling in her stomach. No self-pity. There was shit to get done.

She stood up, but then sat back down and sighed. She had already gotten everything ready for the next day. Her car was washed, and had a full tank of glass. Her desk chair had on tomorrow’s outfit, and her backpack full of brand new school supplies sat on the set. She had emailed all her teachers, asking on ways to get ahead. No one had gotten back to her.

“Well,” she thought, “I guess I could play some more Pokemon.”

She got to the summit of Mt. Thunder, battled Zapdos, and beat him in no time. The plot was progressing; she was to go to see Xatu, who would tell her why she turned into a Pokemon. There was something unnerving about it. She had a feeling she was about to get bad news.

She walked her Pikachu avatar outside, and Michael Cyndaquil was waiting for her. They were to go to the Great Canyon effective immediately, but her avatar wouldn’t move.

“What’s up with you?” Cyndaquil Michael asked.

Two dialogue options were placed before her. _Listen, Michael_ or _It’s OK, it’s nothing._

“It’s OK, it’s nothing.”

“What’s the matter? Go on, say it,” Cyndaquil Michael urged her.

 _Why do you try so hard_ or _Why are you so happy?_

“Why do you try so hard?”

“I want to do my best because it’s for you, Christine.”

Despite herself, she grinned. At least she had Cyndaquil Michael.

 

Jeremy and Michael piled into her car. Christine examined their faces. She tsked at the sight of their baggy eyes.

“He kept me up all night – “

“He was snoring _so_ loudly – “

“Ah!” Christine snapped. “Not another word.”

The two fell silent in their shame.

Christine switched to drive. “I’m very disappointed in you two. And on a _school night_.”

“But mom!” Michael whined.

“Ah!” she snapped again. “Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“Please turn this car around,” Jeremy said. The three laughed.

They arrived at the school fifteen minutes before class. Enough time to grab their schedules, compare classes, and get over the usual dread of a new semester. Except in Christine’s case, who would have to try very hard not to get too excited that she’d horrify her teachers with her level of enthusiasm. In any case, the three felt good having arrived all together. They could tell they’d be riding to school together for what they hoped to be the rest of the semester.

“We’ve got math,” Jeremy told Michael.

“We’ve got English,” Christine told Jeremy.

“And we all have homeroom!” Michael announced. The three grinned wide. It would be a good semester.

 

The three met up for lunch every day. Christine and Jeremy would talk about their day, and Michael would listen while playing videogames. Christine thought maybe he wasn’t interested in their conversation, but Jeremy knew better. As focused as he was in his DS, Michael was still listening to their each and every word, and would add his own opinion every once in a while. Christine eventually caught this and no longer felt he was ignoring them.

“Hey!”

The three kids looked up from their table at the sound of their favorite school gossip. Jenna Rolans.

“Hey Jenna,” Christine greeted her. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering, if you guys were going to the party tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

“We’re going, too,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah. Christine’s gonna be our DD,” Michael added before going back to his videogames.

“Christine, you’re probably the best DD. You’re so kind and caring!”

“Aww, thanks.”

Jenna grinned again. “You boys are in good hands. Anyways, you know it’s not at Jake’s, right? Since, y’know, his house burned down.”

Christine nodded. “Right. It’s at Chloe’s now.”

“Yep. Just wanted to make sure you guys knew that.”

“How’s Jake, by the way?” Jeremy asked.

Jenna gave a small look of concern. “I think he’s fine. We haven’t really heard from him since he and Chloe broke up.”

“They broke up?” Christine couldn’t say she was surprised.

“Yep,” she nodded like an understanding guidance counselor. Her eyes darted, left to right, and she leaned forward. “It’s not a big deal though.”

“Of course.”

She stood straight again. “Anyways, nice seeing you guys. I’ll see y’all at the party tomorrow!”

“Bye, Jenna,” the three called out as Jenna both waved enthusiastically and sprinted to the next table. “Hey!” They could hear her greeting the next set of people.

“I can’t believe they broke up,” Christine said.

“Yeah. Wonder who the next girl’s gonna be.”

“Or guy,” Michael suggested. He did not peel his eyes away from his DS screen, but he could tell his two friends were nodding slowly, broadening their horizons on who Jake’s potential new date would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not even gonna edit this chapter because it's been collecting dust for like half a year and i just want to put it out there or else i'll never do it and i'll never get to the juicy part of this fic fml anyways here it is see ya'll later


	5. Chapter 5

Chloe’s house was filled with people, some classmates, some strangers. None of them were Jake Dillinger. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved, or upset.

She pushed past sweaty bodies, trying to get to the kitchen, where all the drinks were. She hovered over the punch bowl, staring at the artificially red liquid filled with calories, with alcohol, with sugar. It was a bad idea conveniently placed in a bowl with a ladle. Her manicured fingers fiddled with the end of the ladle.

Over the commotion of voices both chattering and singing, she heard the door swing open. Her eyes darted up, anxious. It was just another nobody. It was not Jake.

She gripped at the ladle. Rather than filling a cup with punch, she drank it, straight from the ladle. A line of liquid spilled down the side of her chin. Fuck it.

“Hey!” Brooke appeared next to her, chipper, sober. She pulled a napkin as if from nowhere and dabbed at Chloe’s chin. “You got punch on your – “

“I know,” Chloe barked at her. She tossed the ladle in the punch bowl, turned to Brooke with her arms crossed. “He isn’t here.”

Brooke pouted. “I know.”

“What if he doesn’t show?”

“He’ll show,” Brooke reassured her, although she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted.

Chloe stomped off. Brooke filled a red solo cup with punch – it was for Chloe – and ran after her.

The door swung open again, and both Rich and Jake walked into the house, taking in the many bodies in the living room. A few people turned their heads, and most greeted Jake. They saw Rich, layered because of the cold. A long sleeve under his hoodie, two pairs of pants, no scarf. The burn crawling from his neck to the side of his face was visible. Some quickly averted their eyes. Some stared. Both boys pretended not to notice.

“Alcohol,” Jake announced, pointing towards the kitchen.

“Indeed. Let’s get fuckethed upeth!”

Before Jake could tell Rich to absolutely never say anything similar to that ever again, Rich was already in the kitchen, drinking punch straight from the ladle used for pouring into cups. Jake grabbed a red solo cup, dipped it in the bowl, then took a swig.

“Jesus.”

“It’s practically just vodka,” Rich said.

“No, you lightweight, it’s practically just _sugar_.” Jake shook his head and looked around for a beer or something. He found a cooler full of cheap cans of beer. He grabbed one, and drank it in seconds. He reached for another.

“You’re nervous as shit,” Rich said. He knew his boy's nervous drinking habits.

“Of course I’m nervous as shit.” The can hissed as Jake opened it. He brought the cold metal to his lips. “I’m at my ex-girlfriend’s house. Why wouldn’t I be.”

“We didn’t have to come,” Rich said. He grabbed a red solo cup, filled it with punch, and drank. “We could’ve just stayed at your place, chilled there.”

“Not being here would’ve been weird.”

“Yeah, and _being here_ is weird. Right?”

After a moment, Jake nodded. He was right.

“Come on,” Rich said, giving Jake one strong pat on the shoulder. “Let’s take shots. Loosen you up.” He searched around the kitchen, and found an open bottle of whiskey. That would definitely do. He also found some mini red solo shot glasses. They weren’t made of glass, though. Were they cups? Shot cups? He wasn’t sure.

He filled the two shot cups and handed one to Jake, who was already almost done with his second beer. He grabbed the beer and set it aside. Hopefully Jake would forget about it, and hopefully he wouldn’t get too plastered.

“Cheers,” Rich practically shouted. He clinked their shot cups together.

“Cheers,” Jake muttered, before tipping his head back and letting the liquor slide down his throat.

“Fuck.” Rich coughed, letting the shot cup fall to the ground as he desperately searched for his solo cup. Jake felt warmth spread throughout his body, and he laughed.

“Seriously, you’re such a lightweight!” Jake shouted. He felt it a little, the warmth spreading up his neck, towards his cheeks.

Rich practically chugged the contents of his red solo cup. Punch dripped down his chin and onto his hoodie. Jake laughed even harder, punching Rich on the shoulder. Rich stumbled back, tossed his solo cup aside, wiped his chin, laughed. He leaned against Jake, and laughed.

“Hey,” Jake said, voice low.

Rich's chest felt warm. “Yeah?”

“We should find Jenna.”

Rich pulled away from Jake, eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“She’s good at this kind of stuff, y’know? She can figure out if Chloe’s pissed at me, and she can tell me how to make her feel better, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rich said. He hoped the drunken boy was buzzed enough to miss the annoyance in his voice. “Let’s find Jenna.”

Before they left on their search, Jake grabbed his half-empty beer can.

 

Michael held his breath. After a few seconds, he exhaled. Jeremy did the same. His exhale fizzled into a cough. Michael laughed, grabbing the blunt from him. Christine offered her water bottle, and Jeremy gladly took it.

Michael held out his hand. “Did you want some?”

Christine looked at his hand, at his fingers, at the blunt. “No thanks. I’m DD, remember? And I don’t want to smoke for my first time ever tonight, thank you.”

“Oh my god,” Michael said, slowly. “I still can't believe you've nev-er smoked. God.”

“Of course she’s never smoked,” Jeremy was able to say, now that his throat and chest were no longer in flames. “She’s Christine freakin’ Canigula. She was born good. No, she was store bought at Good Kids R Us.”

“Shut up,” Christine laughed. “That was a really bad joke.”

“We’ll smoke someday,” Michael promised her. “'I'll fulfill this goal.” He stood up, put his right hand against his chest, raised his left hand, positioning the blunt between his index and middle finger.

“I, Michael Mell, hereby swear that I will do my utmost best to earn the title of The Guy Who Got Christine Motherfucking Canigula to Smoke Weed. Amen.” With that, he took one long hit, handed Jeremy the blunt, then exhaled. His friends clapped, and he bowed, grinning.

“This guy’s done,” Jeremy announced. He stuck his hand out the open window of Michael’s room and tossed the withered end outside. He closed the window and stood. “We should get going.”

“Yes,” Christine agreed, standing up. “It’s almost eleven. We’re super late.”

“Fashionably late,” Michael corrected her. “You guys go on outside. I gotta change, then we can dipperoo.”

“Dipperoo,” Jeremy repeated, disgusted.

“Let it go,” Christine said, leading him out the door.

They walked outside and towards Christine’s car. The night air was crisp, and felt very nice against Christine's face. She could feel her nose start to go red. She nuzzled her face into her scarf and grinned. The night was looking to be a great one! With her two friends at her side, nothing could go wrong.

Her two high friends. Her two friends that smelled like weed. 

“Hey, do some jumping jacks or something.”

“What?” Jeremy asked. His head felt empty. “Why?”

“Air yourself out. I don’t want my car smelling like weed.” She hissed out the word weed, worried someone might hear her. Jeremy snorted, but obeyed the commands of the designated driver.

“Okay, we’re good,” Michael called out as he jogged over to them. He stopped before his exercising friend. “Dude. The fuck are you doing?”

“Airing myself out, apparently,” he huffed.

“As per my commands,” Christine said. “Remember, I’m designated driver. Anything I say goes.”

Michael flourished and bowed. “Ah yes. Queen DD. Your wish is our command.”

Christine curtseyed. “Get in the car.”

They arrived past fashionably late, and entered the house during the busiest point of the party. Some people were congested in the living room, some hung out on the front porch and greeted the three as they walked in. Christine peered around, looking for the generous soul who was throwing the massive, destructive first party of the year.

“I’m gonna go find a drink,” Michael announced. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” Jeremy said. “I’m, like, super high. I’m gonna let it mellow.”

“Suit yourself,” Michal said, before disappearing into the masses of bodies.

“There’s people outside,” Jeremy told Christine. “Out back. Wanna go?”

“Sure. Hopefully Chloe’s out there.”

In the middle of the massive backyard was a bonfire built from thick logs of wood. Of the many people huddled around it’s sweltering warmth, Christine could see Chloe, Brooke, and Jenna.

“There they are!” She grabbed Jeremy’s hand and rushed over.

“I feel like I’m flying,” Jeremy said. “We’re soarin’. Flyin’.”

“Don’t even start with me, Jeremy Heere. You know I will sing that entire sound track with you.”

Jeremy laughed until he snorted. He knew, because they’d done it once. The thought of it made him laugh even harder, so hard that maybe his ribs would collapse. 

Christine greeted the three girls, and she could tell she’d interrupted some sort of serious conversation. “Is everything alright?” she asked, and the mom in her voice could immediately be heard.

“I’m hot,” Jeremy announced, peeling off his jacket.

“Jake’s here,” Jenna said. Christine nodded, looking over at Chloe, then at Brooke, then back at Chloe.

“Is this good?”

“She doesn’t know what it is,” Brooke answered for her. Chloe was staring at Jeremy.

“Now I’m cold.”

“You need a drink,” Chloe said.

“Too high.”

“I wanna be high.”

“You’re _drunk_ ,” Brooke reminded her.

“Not drunk enough,” Chloe grumbled. She grabbed Brooke’s wrist and marched away. Brooke looked back at them, face flushed.

“We’ll be back!”

Christine waved, then looked at Jenna. “So, did anything happen?”

Jenna nodded enthusiastically. “Before I spill, let’s sit.” She motioned at three lawn chairs placed at a comfortable enough distance from the fire that Jeremy would no longer struggle with his jacket, whether he wanted it on or off. Christine and Jenna gossiped, while Jeremy laid down on the lawn chair, closed his eyes, and floated.

Jenna loved Christine. She loved that she could just gossip to her, and she wouldn’t judge her about it, because she understood that everyone gossips, and maybe Jenna did it a little too much, but whatever. Christine listened, and nodded, and gasped at the perfect moments. They weren’t best friends, sure, but Jenna could see it happening.

She told Jenna the entire spiel, how Jake and Rich asked for her help figuring Chloe out.

“I can’t really figure her out, though,” Jenna admitted. “She’s, like, sulking or something. Even though she broke up with him.”

“ _She_ broke up with _him_?” Christine asked. “Then what’s the problem?”

“ _I know!_ ”

Still, she felt bad that she was leaving out the juiciest bit. It was so freakin’ juicy, and it was _killing_ her that she was keeping it in. But there it was, in the back of her head, replaying over and over again, as if playing from a projector against the back walls of her brain.

She’d been walking back into the house, trying to find Jake or Rich. She wanted to tell them that she was at a loss, but she’d get down to it by the end of the party. She couldn’t find them anywhere. Not in the living room, not in the basement, and definitely not outside where Chloe and Brooke were. She thought she heard voices upstairs, and began to march up them, her footsteps drowned out by the music. _No one’s supposed to be up here_ , she thought, and she was glad she hadn’t vocalized it.

She was rounding the corner when she saw them. Rich pressed against the wall, Jake pressed against Rich. Jake _kissing_ Rich.

Holy gossip glory hole.

Jenna inhaled sharply, hid her body behind the corner, peeped her head around it. They kept kissing. It was sloppy and intense.

She knew they had been close all winter break. Jake had gotten his own apartment, courtesy of his parents, and apparently, Rich was over a lot. Rich had set a fire in Jake’s house, burned the house down, but they were buddies now. Well, more than that.

Apparently, Rich had set a fire in Jake’s heart. Jenna almost giggled at her own joke, but stopped herself. Jake was saying something. She strained to hear their voices.

“We can’t,” Rich whispered. She could barely make it out. “Can we?”

Jake responded by burying his face in Rich’s neck, and Rich let out a soft moan. Jenna pulled away from the corner. She was missing shit, but Oh My God, she was almost screaming. She put her hand over her mouth hard enough that her nails almost dug into her cheeks. Her heart was racing.

She peered over the corner just in time to catch them sneaking into a room.

She practically threw herself down the stairs, that’s how fast she descended them. Her heart was racing, her hands were sweating, and she _had_ to tell someone.

She looked around the living room, the dancing bodies, heard their voices, caught their faces. Realizing that, no, she didn’t _have_ to tell anyone, she walked back outside, legs shaking from both the cold and the excitement.

“Did anything else happen?” Christine asked.

She wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell _someone_.

Jenna shook her head. “That’s it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, it snows in New Jersey. I've never been in snow so idk wtf one would wear.
> 
> More to come soon~ Thanks for sticking around.
> 
> edit: guys im shitting myself i didnt know jakes last name so i just put gyllenhaal as a placeholder but i fORGOT TO CHANGE IT 
> 
> like for a while this fic was about rich making out with American Actor Jacob Benjamin Gyllenhaal b y e


	6. Chapter 6

Christine looked over at Jeremy. He was staring at the stars above him, eyes half-lidded. He looked like he could have fallen asleep. She nudged him with her boot to make sure that wasn’t the case.

“You okay?”

“Yep,” Jeremy responded. “I’m gooood.” He drew the word out, watched it disappear with the bonfire’s smoke.

“Hey, Michael’s been in there for a pretty long time,” Christine said. “I’m gonna go look for him, yeah?”

“Okay,” Jeremy said. As Christine stood and walked away, he brought his heavy arm up and waved her goodbye.

Jenna slid into the seat next to him. “How are ya, Jeremy Heere?”

Jeremy closed his eyes and smiled.

Inside, Christine asked people left and right where Michael Mell could have gone. Most people shrugged her away, but one kind soul was generous enough to point down the hallway. “Did ya check the basement?”

“I didn’t. Thank you,” Christine said, waving at them before snaking her way down the hallway. She eventually made her way to the end of the hallway, a door awaiting her. She swallowed any creepy feelings down and opened it and, luckily, the lights were on. She climbed down the rickety stairs, towards a commotion.

A party of its own was occurring in the basement. Some people were huddled in their corners, taking the opportunity to use this calmer space to chat. Most people were gathered around a leather couch, crowding the individuals who were playing the videogame that was playing from the large flat screen hung on the wall. As she approached the couch, Christine knew exactly who was playing video games at the first party of the spring semester. 

“Michael freakin’ Mell.”

Michael looked up at her for half a second, then went back to the screen. “Yo, Christine! Look, I’m totally slaughtering Richie Rich here.”

“Don’t call me that,” Rich snapped, his fingers clanking against the buttons of his controller. Rich was sitting next to Michael, and Jake was sitting next to Rich, their shoulders touching, Jake’s eyes intense against the tv screen. Rich looked furious, and Michael looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Shit!”

“Hell yeah!” Michael cheered, jumping up from the couch and throwing his controller in the air. He successfully caught it, then pointed the controller at a frowning Rich. “You lose, Rich Goranski.” He walked towards the coffee table in front of them, and grabbed a bottle of purple liquor. “Drink.”

With a look of remorse, Rich shamefully tilted his head back, and Michael poured the liquor in his mouth. He gulped it down, closing his lips before Michael tilted the bottle back. The purple liquid splashed against his lips, trickled down his face, and got the neckline of his hoodie wet.

“Goddammit,” Rich laughed, smearing the back of his hand across his lips. “Rematch.”

“Sure,” Michael said, taking a swig from the bottle. A longer swig than Rich’s. Christine wondered how much he’d had. Hopefully, not too much.

Michael set the bottle down, then pointed at Christine. “Only if my best friend Christine gets to play with meeeeee?”

Christine blinked, now registering the proposition. “What? No, no, no. I’ve never played this game.”

“You’ve never played Smash?” Michael said, stomping over to Christine. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and peered into her big, big eyes. “Ya gotta fuckin play.”

“I don’t know how,” Christine said. Michael’s face was inches from her's The shoulder his hand was on felt hot.

Michael stared at her, intense. He pulled away and smiled wide. “ ‘s okay. I’ll carry ya.”

“Carry me?”

“Okay.” Michael hugged her in his arms and she squeaked in surprise. He dragged her over to the couch, her toes tiptoeing across the floor to help him in his carrying efforts. He let her go. “Sit,” he commanded.

She sat, face flushed and giggling.

He held out a controller. “Play,” he commanded.

She grabbed the controller and sighed. He sat down next to her. She was grinning. She couldn’t help it; he was being such a drunken dork.

“Kay. What do I do?”

“Choose your character,” Michael said, voice deep. “Jakey boy, you play too.”

“Sure,” Jake slurred, accepting the controller that Michael handed to him.

Christine examined the character list. There were a  _lot_ of characters to choose from. However, one character immediately caught her eye. She maneuvered her video game hand, and dropped the marker to claim her character.

“Of course, you’d pick Pikachu!” Michael shouted. Christine laughed at his extremely loud, extremely excited tone.

“Yeah, _of course,_ he’s the only one I know about." She examined the board again. "Except Mario and Luigi and Peach and- I guess I do have more options, huh?”

“ ‘s okay,” Michael reassured her. He chose Princess Peach.

“Princess Peach? Princess Peach?!” Jake repeated. “… Lame.” He chose Ike.

“Don’t underestimate him, Jake,” Rich warned, before choosing Ganon.

Michael set up the teams. Michael Mell and Christine Canigula, versus Jake Dillinger and Rich Goranski.

Ready. Go.

Christine was not entirely useless. She figured if she just smashed the buttons, she’d do something right. Right?

She fell off the stage several times doing this, Pikachu torpedoing to his death as Princess Peach held her own against their two enemies quite expertly. Christine decided to figure out what each button did, since Jake and Rich were focusing on Michael and paid her no mind. Once she got the buttons down, she zeroed in on Ganon.

“Hey!” Rich whined. Pikachu had headbutted Ganon right off the stage.

“Sorry!” Christine shouted, and she truly sounded apologetic. Michael laughed.

When they won, the two screamed out their cheers as they both jumped up from the sofa.

“We won!” Christine said. She felt shaky, as if the videogame they had played was way more than that. It was as if her life had been at stake, but she had saved herself, and the relief she felt translated to the excitement of having won a round of Super Smash Bros.

“Fuck yeah we did!” Michael responded, and he hugged the little tiny Christine in his arms and squeezed. Christine laughed, snaking her arms around his back. She felt her stomach and her face go warm. She smelled like bonfire, and Michael smelled like fruit punch.

Michael let go. He stared at her. She felt her face grow warmer.

“I should go back to Jeremy – “

“Nooooo!” Michael whined, grabbing Christine’s right hand with both of his own. Christine’s heart fluttered. “We have to play more! Come on! I’ll text him, okay, yeah? And tell him to come join us?”

She couldn’t say no.

 

Michael: jermy

Michael: jermster germy

Michael: com

Michael: comm insid k???? smash bru

Jeremy glared at his phone screen. Once he was able to decipher it, he clicked it off and looked over at Jenna.

“They’re playing Smash in the basement. I think. Wanna come?”

“No, I’m okay,” Jenna said. “I’m gonna find Chloe and Brooke.”

“Okay, see ya.” He walked back into the house, thankful that his high was beginning to wear off enough that he could start drinking. Before heading to the basement, he shoved three spiked lemonades under his shoulder and went on his merry way. He entered the basement to the familiar sound of Michael Mell’s victory cheering, and Christine’s laughter.

He smiled wide. He was so glad they were getting along.

“Who’s winning?” Jeremy asked, setting the lemonades down on the coffee table.

“Me, of course!” Michael said. “You’re playing, right?”

“Fuck yes,” Jeremy said. Christine offered him her controller, and he accepted. He took a seat on the floor, between Michal and Christine’s legs. He chose Ness. Michael smiled, chose Lucas.

“Losers chug spiked lemonade,” Michael announced.

“You’re on,” both Jake and Rich slurred their words at the same intensity.

Jake and Rich ended up losing, but Michael and Jeremy chugged the drinks for them, everyone agreeing that Jake and Rich had had enough. They tried arguing this, but their argument was hard to prove with squinty eyes, flushed cheeks, and Jakes legs draped across Rich’s lap. They eventually fell asleep like that, and Jeremy and Michael went back to playing.

“Loser takes a shot of whiskey.”

“God, I hate whiskey,” Jeremy complained.

Michael leaned down, his mouth inches from Jeremy’s ear. “Then don’t lose.”

Christine stopped their drinking after their sixth round, though they continued to play past that, with Christine watching. She was content watching them play. They were hilarious, but they kind of forgot she was even there. They leaned in to each other, punched each other on the shoulder playfully, laughed and cheered and lost themselves in their own world of video games. Player one and player two. 

Christine shoved all negative thoughts aside. If she wanted to join their games, she could just ask. Duh. She truly  _was_ happy just watching the two play video games. She began to keep score. They had lost an equal amount of times. Eventually, Michael’s words began to sound a lot like Jake’s and Rich’s.

“I think it’s time to go,” Christine announced. Despite the fact that it was nearing 2 a.m., the two boys began their protesting.

“Hey! I don’t want to argue with a pair of drunk boys. Let’s go!”

“Fine,” the two grumbled. Christine grabbed Michael’s hand. Michael grabbed Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy tripped, but steadied himself with Michael. The three walked to the car.

 

“We’re here,” Christine announced, looking over at the passenger seat. Jeremy, his head pressed against the passenger side window, hummed an acknowledgement, but made no other movement. Christine peered back at Michael, who was seated in the middle, head thrown back.

“I’m gonna walk him to his door, okay?”

Michael, too, hummed an acknowledgement, and Christine was forced to accept that. Christine stepped out of the car and walked around it, to the passenger side door. She opened it, and had Jeremy not been wearing his seatbelt, he might have spilled onto the floor. Instead, his head fell abruptly, and the movement woke him up.

“Come on, Jeremy. In you go.”

Jeremy nodded, sluggish, as he clicked his seatbelt off and slid out of the car. His world was a little unsteady, but he was fine. He was tired, he was drunk, but he was fine.

Christine held his hand and guided him to the front door. From her purse, she pulled out his keys, clicked the door open, and handed them to Jeremy. “You’ll make it upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy nodded. He lifted a lazy hand and patted Christine’s hair. “Thanks, mom.”

Christine laughed. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

“I will,” Jeremy said. He walked in and began to close the door.

“And brush your teeth!” Christine added. He shut the door.

Christine drove Michael to his house. Halfway there, he stirred awake.

“Hmn?”

“Hey.”

“Wheresa?”

“We’re going home,” Christine said, the inflection in her voice more motherly than intended. “Okay, Michael?”

“Christiiiiiiiine.”

“Yeeeees?”

“You’re the best,” he mumbled. Christine smiled.

“I know, honey.”

They arrived at his house. Christine knew Michael would be a little more work than Jeremy had been. She opened his door, and began to unbuckle his seat belt.

“You’re s-so nice. Did you know that? You’re so… so fucking nice.”

“I know, Michael,” Christine said. Even though they were drunken words, she really appreciated them. “Come on, out of the car.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

Michael, still inside the car, held his arms open. “Hug.”

She couldn’t say no to the drunken idiot. She leaned into the car and hugged him.

“Thank youuuu.”

“You’re welcomeeeeee.”

“For the driviiiing.”

“I knoooow.”

Michael giggled. Christine began to pull away, but Michael moved, as if to hug her again. Christine began to speak, but couldn’t.

Michael was kissing her.

She was frozen for a while. Her knee was pressing against the seat, the rest of her leg folded, and her other leg was outside of the car, keeping her balanced. She would lose that balance, though, if she didn’t do something about the drunk boy kissing her.

Finally, she pulled away. Her eyes were wide. She could still feel his lips on hers, heavy. Michael stared back at her with the same horrified expression.

“Michael,” Christine began. She tried to be as gentle as possible. “You’re… you’re drunk. I don’t think – “

“I’m gonna puke.”

Christine's jaw dropped as she recoiled in offense. “Um, okay? You caught me off guard, sorry if I wasn’t the  _best_ – “

“No – _no._ Christine, you fucking – I’m – “

She realized what he meant. She pulled out of the car, just in time to only get the sleeve of her jacket covered in Michael Mell’s puke. The rest of his puke hit the floor of Christine’s Nissan Sentra.

She almost cried. She really almost did. If she had cried, she wasn’t sure if it would’ve been about the puke on her arm, on her car, or the kiss. More than likely, it’d be about her car.

“Oh my god,” Michael said. “Fuck, Christine, I’m so fucking sorry, oh my god.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes. This was ridiculous! She was not about to cry over puke in her car, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Okay, it totally kind of definitely was.

Christine shook her head. “No, it’s fine, it’s okay,” she said, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat. “Do you still need to puke?”

Michael stayed silent for a while. “I think yes.”

“That’s fine, let’s just do that outside, okay?”

Michael nodded, and he carefully stepped out of her car, head low in shame, or maybe in preparation for the next wave of vomit. He slowly made his way to his trash can. He flipped the lid, leaned against it, and puked again. Christine felt her own wave of vomit wrestle with her stomach. She breathed in through her mouth, shallow. She still had to get Michael inside.

Maybe the vomiting sobered him up, but Christine was able to get Michael inside quickly and quietly. She led him into his room, made sure he changed into a clean set of clothes, and _definitely_ made sure he brushed his teeth. She peeled off her jacket; she couldn’t wear it, not while the sleeve was covered in vomit. She placed the jacket aside, more concerned with getting Michael into bed than anything else. After getting him to bed, she placed his trash bin next to his bed.

“In case you need it,” she said.

Michael grimaced. “Thanks. Hey, listen,” he whispered. Christine nodded, chest pounding.

“There’s some car cleaning stuff in the garage. It’s right next to the door. Use it for your car.”

Christine sighed. “Thanks.”

Michael looked up at her, big round eyes and pouting lip. “I’m sorry.”

Christine shook her head. “It’s okay. Good night.”

Michael closed his eyes. “Night.”

He puked one last time after Christine closed the door.

Thankfully, she found the cleaning products easily. They were all in a basket, including a pair of yellow gloves, which Christine was eternally grateful for. Christine scrubbed at the foaming bubbles on her car’s interior. Michael, thankfully, had not puked all that much. It was still gross, so she tried not to think about it.

Michael had kissed her. Michael Mell, her ex’s best friend in the entire world, had kissed her.

She tried not to think about that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't kill me thanks


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm updating again on christmas because tis the season to get Gay

It was the worst hang over in the entire history of hangovers. His head was pounding, and the little sunlight that crept past his blinds was making his head spin. He got up, blanket still wrapped around his blanket, and pulled his blinds shut, enveloping the entire room in darkness. Michael could still smell the vomit.

God. He had to shower.

Michael grabbed his puked-on trashcan and shuffled into his bathroom. He was about to start cleaning the bin out when he noticed a jacket tossed at the corner of his bathroom. Definitely wasn’t his. Confused, he picked up the jacket.

Oh, shit. That was Christine’s.

Christine.

_Christine._

Michael groaned, his headache increasing tenfold. He was beginning to feel nauseous.

What the fuck had he done?

He peeled off his clothes and started up the shower, making sure the water was hot enough to burn his headache away. For the longest time he just stood there, letting the water trickle down his face. He still felt like shit from the hangover, and now, the events of last night’s party were beginning to flood into his head.

 

“I’m gonna go find a drink. Want anything?”

He looked at Jeremy, expectant. Jeremy shook his head.

“I’m good,” he declined. “I’m, like, super high. I’m gonna let it mellow.”

Michael gave a weak smile. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning around and heading towards the kitchen. He immediately went towards the punchbowl. He poured a small bit of it in a red solo cup and took a cautious sip of the sugary concoction.

“Yo, Mikey!” A firm hand slapped the back of his shoulder, causing Michael to lurch forward and splash some of the punch on his mouth. He wiped away at his mouth and turned to see Rich and Jake, their cheeks and noses flushed from the cold. They stood close to each other, smiling wide at him. Michael smiled back.

“Hey guys! What’s up?”

“Are we drinking over here?” Jake asked, gesturing to Michael’s cup.

“Oh, I was just trying it – “

“Nah, we’re drinking. C’mon, we gotta do some shots. Welcome you into the party!” Jake moved away from the two and began his search for the perfect liquor.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He watched Rich, the way his eyes kept on Jake for another moment. His eyes shifted downwards before turning back to Michael.

“You good, Mikey?”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a little high.”

“Oh shit, nice. Me and Jake were drinking, but I don’t feel t yet, y’know? Takes a while.”

“Right,” Michael said. “Just don’t drink too much, dude. You’re small, it’ll really fuck you over.”

Rich glared at him and began to say something, but Jaked popped in next to him.

“Got us some Jell-O shots, baby!” He handed Michael and Rich their mini red solo cups, then retrieved his own. He clicked his cup against Michael’s, and then against Rich’s. His eyes lingered on Rich’s. Michael saw it.

“Cheer’s,” Michael said. Rich and Jake looked back at him, tugged out of their trance.

“Cheers!”

They sucked out the Jell-O from their cups, with Rich twisting his face in disgust. Jake caught that lool and laughed, almost choking on his lime Jell-O.

“What’s with the face?”

“I can taste the vodka!”

“How?!”

“Shut it, Jake!”

Michael tried insanely hard not to laugh. It was bubbling against his throat, and he knew that once he started laughing, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He held it in, and the two boys noticed his struggle.

“What?” they both asked. In _unison_. Oh man, this was killing him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just trying not to laugh.” His last word fizzled into a bark of laughter. “You guys are just really cute.”

Their eyes went wide. Their cheeks were red, not so much from the cold anymore. Rich immediately went for the defensive.

“We’re not – why would you – we’re – “

“You can tell?” Jake asked, voice low under the noise of the party. Rich looked at him with an exasperated look.

Michael tried, again, not to laugh. He nodded, smiling lips hidden behind his hand. “A little. The way you guys look at each other. The way you act. It’s really cute.”

The two poor boys looked worried. Michael held his hands out. “No, don’t worry. Straight people won’t catch it.”

“You sure?” Rich asked.

“Pfft, oh yeah!” Michael said. “Plus, you guys are drunk right now. I’m sure it’s more subtle when you guys are sober.”

“Rich is a cuddly drunk.”

Rich gasped. “What? You’re the cuddler, you fucking liar.”

They fell into their affectionate arguments again, and Michael fell into their voices. They were cute, the two of them, overwhelmed by the novelty of their new relationship. Michael wanted to know everything: when they first hooked up, who made the first move, how the other reacted. They obviously loved to argue playfully. It reminded him a lot of the banter he’d have with Jeremy.

Michael turned back to the punchbowl, drumming his fingers on the end of the table. At the same time, it was lonely watching the two boys be so open and affectionate with each other, both of them knowing that their affection went beyond platonic. Jeremy could run his hands through Michael’s hair, ask for back rubs, wrestle him into the ground after losing a round of Mario Kart, but no matter the butterflies it gave Michael, he had to swallow the feeling with the realization that it was all platonic.

Michael took in a deep breath. His high was starting to turn into an anxiety attack. He had to reconnect.

But when he turned around, Rich and Jake had left. All he saw was a sea of bodies with unfamiliar faces. His chest felt tight, and his stomach dropped. He wished he was with Jeremy. Why did he break away from them? He shouldn’t have. Now Jeremy was alone with Christine.

No. He couldn’t turn Christine into a villain. That was just shitty. Michael darted his eyes around, looked for somewhere to escape to. He just needed a silent room. He needed to be by himself.

He looked for a basement door. There was a basement somewhere, right? He didn’t want to go upstairs; that was usually where drunken party people went to get quick blow jobs, and he did not want to stumble into that. He wandered down a long stretch of empty hallway until he reached a door. The door, luckily, led to an empty basement.

He shut the door behind him and let the noise of the party drown out. He concerned himself only with the pounding in his head and the heaviness of his breathing. Pressing his back against the wall, he slid down onto the floor without bothering to turn on a light. He let the darkness, the lack of bright, blinking lights, calm him. He closed his eyes.

He wished he was with Jeremy. _With_ Jeremy. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss his freckled cheeks, nuzzle his face in his neck, fall asleep with him. He wanted to come to these parties together, to sneak off with him once they were drunk enough, be alone with him in a house full of strangers.

That wasn’t ever going to happen, was it? He wished he could find some sort of distraction. Could he find something like that? Anything?

Breathe in.

And out.

Michael sighed, pressed his hands against his thighs. If anything, he could find another kind of distraction, for now. He pulled out his phone, texted a friend his location. _Bring smash_ , he wrote, before getting up and searching for a light. Once he was able to get the lights on, he was relieved to find that the basement was something of an entertainment room. Couches, a coffee table, and a huge TV mounted on the wall.

“Perfect,” Michael said.

 

Eventually, Rich and Jake joined him, along with some more party people who would rather break away from the living room rave. He immersed himself in playing, in kicking Rich and Jake’s asses. Eventually, he had the desire to kick Jeremy’s ass, but he wasn’t drunk enough to see Jeremy just then.

He held up his controller and looked at Rich, then Jake. “Care to make this a little more interesting?”

“Interesting how?” Rich asked. Jake and Michael exchanged a look. All was understood.

“I got it. Hang tight, aight?” With that, Jake bounced off the couch and left.

“Where’s he goin’?”

“He’s getting alcohol,” Michael explained. “Losers drink.”

“Great,” Rich groaned. “More chances for Jake to point out how much of a lightweight I am.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Nah,” Rich shrugged. “I like it when he teases me. Just him.”

Michael smiled. “I get that. Must be nice.”

A silence fell between the two of them, filled by the chattering of the other party members.

“Do you like anyone?” Rich asked.

“N…no,” Michael hesitated, and Rich caught it, he knew he did, but he left it alone. “I just… it’d be fun to have what you have,” Michael admitted. “Or something.”

“Or something,” Rich echoed.

Jake appeared before them, carrying a small ice chest.

“Jesus.”

“Don’t worry,” Jake assured them. “’s mostly just beer. I snagged a bottle of Hypnotiq, too, but we can hold off on that till later.”

Jake tossed both Michael and Rich a beer before sitting down between them, beer in his hand. Michael snapped his bear open.

“Let the games begin.”

 

Christine joined him later, and then he was drunk enough to text Jeremy and not feel too weird about it. Once Jeremy entered the room, though, he felt the sudden need to just get _worse_. To drink more, even though he should be drinking water instead. Christine tried to get him to drink more water, but he kept looking at Jeremy, at his smile, his cute, wonderful smile.

“That’s enough,” Christine warned.

“Aww c’mon,” Michael complained.

“She’s right, dude,” Jeremy said. “Let’s just, let’s keep playing. No shots, yeah?”

“Fine,” Michael replied, grumpy, and he looked over at Rich and Jake. They were passed out, entangled in each other. Michael propped his legs up on Jeremy’s and stared at the TV screen.

Jeremy didn’t move away. He rested his arms against Michael’s legs and chose a character.

Michael wanted this. He wanted this, and more. But it couldn’t go to more. It wouldn’t.

God, he was getting depressed. He drowned it out with videogames, and Jeremy.

By the time they’d gotten into Christine’s car, he wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten there. Or when they’d dropped Jeremy off. He just remembered Jeremy sitting in the front, not in the back with him, and being silently upset about it. And then sleeping.

And then puking.

Everything after the puking was crystal clear. The embarrassment, the nausea, the distraught look on Christine’s face. He’d puked in Christine’s car. Her Nissan Sentra. Her lifeline, basically.

And he’d kissed her, too. He’d kissed his best friend’s ex-girlfriend.

He wasn’t sure what he regretted more, the vomiting or the kiss.

After a long, long shower, Michael curled into bed with boxers and an oversized hoodie, and still wet hair. He checked his phone.

One message from Jeremy.

And one from Christine.

Michael clicked his phone off and closed his eyes.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and thank you for all the comments! let's keep this yuletide gay ya'll 
> 
> again, thanks for all the support! merry clingus! happy hannukah!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to name it chapter 7.5 but it wouldn't let me :< oh well

Jake Dillinger’s eyes fluttered open. He first processed the boy sleeping on top of him. Rich’s arms were wrapped around him, head rested on his chest. He couldn’t see his face; all he could do was stare at his hair, dirty blonde with those ridiculous streaks of red. Jake ran his fingers through that soft fluff of hair, closed his eyes, and tried falling back asleep on Chloe’s couch.

_Chloe’s couch._

Jake Dillinger’s eyes shot right open. They darted around, confirming his fears: he had fallen asleep in Chloe’s basement. He had fallen asleep at his ex-girlfriend’s house, cuddling his current boyfriend. What time was it?

He pulled up his jacket sleeve and studied his watch. 10:03 a.m.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “Rich. Rich, wake up.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go. Dude, wake up. Rich.”

“Whaaa?” Rich groaned, turning his head away from Jake’s voice and closing his eyes tighter.

“Rich!” Jake shook his hand through Rich’s hair in an attempt to wake him up further.

“What?!” Rich barked, agitated. Jake began to peel himself off of Rich.

“We’re still in Chloe’s house, dude!” He had managed to slide out off the couch, but Rich remained curled up in it, hiding his face against the back rest.

“So?” he asked, muffled voice against the couch.

“What do you mean _so_?” Jake asked, agitated. “We have to leave. I don’t think she knows we’re down here, maybe we can sneak out.”

“Let’s just sleep more,” he said.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. Rich was still curled against the couch, back facing him, unmoving. They had to get out of there, and fast. He wasn’t sure if Chloe was awake, if Chloe’s parents were back, if Chloe even cared if he was there, and if she did, he didn’t know if she’d be mad. He didn’t know if she had already seen them, asleep on her couch, cuddling. The thought made his stomach drop.

He reached out and grabbed at Rich’s sleeve, and tugged.

“Come on, let’s go. What if Chloe sees us?”

Rich shrugged his hand away. “And what if she does?” he asked, sitting up, staring at Jake with tired eyes. “And what if she does, Jake?”

Jake didn’t want to have to deal with that right now. And he didn’t want to give that same excuse again.

Rich sighed and rubbed his palms against his eyes. Finally, he stood up, and shoved his hands in the pocket of his wrinkled hoodie.

“Let’s go,” Rich muttered, and started for the basement’s door. With an awful pit of sour guilt in his stomach, Jake followed after him.

They climbed up the steps with a heavy silence between them. At the top of the steps, Rich gripped the doorknob, then stopped.

“What are you-“

“Shhh!”

Jake clamped his lips shut, staring at Rich. Rich stared back at him, eyebrows furrowed, body leaning towards the door. His eyes narrowed.

Rich could hear Chloe and Brooke talking on the other side.

“He’s just in here with Rich, sleeping, I swear.”

“You’re sure?” Chloe asked. “He didn’t, like, hook up with anyone last night? At all?”

“I don’t think he did. I-I mean, of course he didn’t!”

“It doesn’t matter. He can date whoever he wants.”

“Right, of course, yeah!”

“I can’t believe he’s still here.”

“Maybe we should ask them to go?”

Chloe didn’t respond. Rich leaned back towards Jake.

“They’re out there.”

Jake nodded. He had heard bits and pieces. The bit that was the clearest involved Chloe wondering if he’d hooked up with anyone. And Brooke denying it.

He looked at Rich. Rich, his hungover boyfriend who he’d woken up. His cranky boyfriend who he’d probably agitated more by waking him up to _this_ bullshit again.

He was sick of making Rich feel like this. Like he was something to hide. He never hid any of his relationships, and Rich should be no different.

“Move.”

Rich looked at him, confused, but did as told, stepping aside for him so he could open the door.

Chloe and Brooke stared at them.

Rich and Jake stared back.

“Hey,” Jake said.

“Hey,” Chloe responded.

Rich and Brooke stayed quiet, exchanging silent looks of dread.

“Do you, uh, need help cleaning up?”

“Oh, um, no. We’re- we’re good. We’re fine,” Chloe said.

“Cool,” Jake nodded. He was very much conscious of how heavy the air felt. “We’ll get going then. Bye.”

“Bye,” Chloe said. She watched as Jake grabbed Rich’s hand and lead him past the two girls. As soon as their hands interlocked, their faces went red, and neither of them could look at either of the girls.

“A-awesome party,” Rich called out weakly. When Chloe didn’t answer, Brooke’s voice took over.

“Thanks! Glad you could make it!” Her voice was better than Rich’s, though it still wavered. She looked back at Chloe, who was staring at her with sharp eyes.

The front door opened.

And slammed shut.

And still, not a word from Chloe.

“Chloe? You okay?”

Chloe blinked slowly. Her eyes remained sharp, but now, they looked more tired. She ran a hand through her long, disheveled hair, then turned and marched away.

“I’m going back to bed.”

“O-okay.” She stared after Chloe, but Chloe walked away without once looking back to look at her. She kept watching her, and when she disappeared, she listened to the sound of her footsteps. She listened to them die out.

Unsure of how to help, Brooke went back to cleaning the rest of the household.

 

She was done picking up the bottles and tossed trash. The floors just needed to be swept and mopped, but she decided to wait on that. She wanted to check on Chloe.

She walked up the stairs slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. She walked up to the white door covered in blue polka dots. She knocked.

“Chloe? Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Brooke opened the door slowly and popped her head into the room, hesitant. The room was lit by the warm glow of string lights.

“You okay?”

Chloe was sprawled on her bed, head dangling off the edge, hair falling in crazy waves. She had earbuds in, but tugged them off.

“I’m fine.”

She obviously wasn’t. Brooke wordlessly walked over to Chloe’s bed and sat next to Chloe.

“You sure?”

Chloe sighed, repositioning herself so that her head no longer dangled off the edge of the bed. Her neck hurt, and her head felt weird from the blood rush. She dug fingers into her knotted hair. God, she needed to shower.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me,” she mumbled. She grabbed some of her hair, ran her fingers up and down. When she got to the bottom, she could feel how damaged her hair was, and it made her feel even more disgusting.

“About Rich?”

“No, I mean, about being bi, you know? I don’t care that he’s with Rich now, I just… I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”

Brooke nodded, frowning at her upset friend. She wanted to hug her, but she probably didn’t want to be touched right now, so she just listened. She nodded, and listened.

“We used to talk a lot,” Chloe said. “I thought we were close, and I thought we were gonna stay close after we broke up, but…” She paused, looking away from her split ends and looking up at Brooke’s sympathetic puppy eyes and pouty lips.

“Maybe he just needs to know you’re not mad at him?”

“Why would I be mad?” she asked.

“I dunno,” Brooke shrugged. “But if I’d just broken up with someone and things were weird, I’d want the other person to know that there’s no hard feelings. Things just get weird after you break up with someone.”

Chloe stared at Brooke, then looked away. “I guess. I guess things are always supposed to be weird after a break up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Brooke nodded. “Things were weird with Jeremy, but that’s because he’s weird.”

“Right,” Chloe said, giggling. “You guys never really dated, though.”

“It felt like things were going there, and they didn’t,” Brooke said. “I’m not mad, though.” Her eyes perked up. “ _And_ , Jeremy knows that, so things aren’t weird!”

“Wow, you’re so smart, Brooke,” Chloe said, sarcastic, but not hurtful. She tried to watch her sarcasm around Brooke, but it still slipped out.

“It’s true,” Brooke responded playfully. “Anyways, I think you should just try talking to him. You guys haven’t really _talked_ talked. You’ve just been avoiding each other.”

“That’s true.”

“Tell him you’re happy for him!” Brooke said. “For him and Rich, I mean.”

“I’ll try that,” Chloe agreed. After a pause, she said, “They’re kind of a weird couple.”

“How?” Brooke asked, curious.

“I don’t know, I just… never would’ve guessed.”

“Me neither,” Brooke agreed. “Especially after he burned his house down.”

“Right! But, well, I guess that wasn’t his fault.”

“Yeah… Hey, we should do facemasks.”

“We should,” Chloe agreed. “I feel really gross after that party. I forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Ew,” Brooke grimaced. “Me too.”

Chloe laughed. “My hair feels gross, too. Let’s wash our hair and do hair masks, too.”

Brooke beamed at her. She loved their spa days together, especially when they were unexpected. The planned ones they had every other week were nice too, of course.

Chloe smiled back at her best friend. If there was anyone that could make her feel hopeful again, anyone that could remind her that things are lovely and beautiful and great, it was Brooke and her blonde hair and flushed cheeks.

“Should I dye my hair blonde?”

Brooke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh, I mean-“

“Nah, then we’d look like twins or something. I could never get your color, anyways.” Chloe stood and started walking towards the door. “Brooke? You coming?”

Brooke blinked. Her brain was still processing the blonde hair thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!!! A mini-chapter from me to you :>
> 
> Hope everyone has a great Christmas/Hannukah/New Years!!


	9. Chapter 9

Christine: We should talk.

No. Too forward.

Christine: Hey, what’s up? Can we hang out?

Too needy.

Christine: Hi!!!

Too… enthusiastic.

Christine: So, last night was pretty crazy, huh?

Christine let her phone drop onto her lap. She let her head fall back against her bed’s headboard, and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe an emoji would make it better?

No. Nothing would make sending this text easier. She knew this. She just had to do it. Just. Send it.

Christine grabbed her phone again and erased the line of text. She re-wrote her text. Quick and painful, like pulling gum from hair. She held her breath.

Send.

Her stomach dropped. She threw her phone across the bed, grabbed a pillow, smushed it against her face. Screamed.

He didn’t respond right away. Of course, he didn’t. She had to distract herself in the meanwhile, otherwise her head would fricken explode. She finally resorted to playing pokemon, but that reminded her of Michael, who still hadn’t texted back.

Then, her phone rang.

She audibly gasped as she practically jumped for her phone. She clicked her phone screen on. Jeremy’s name appeared.

Not Michael. Not Jeremy’s best friend. Whom she had kissed.

Jeremy: mom I have a hang over

Or, well, he kissed her, but still, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Christine: that’s what you get for being awful and partaking in the sin of underaged drinking

Jeremy: I have to decide my entire life in the next year. how is that kind of pressure not a gateway to alcoholism

Christine: touche

Jeremy: thanks for driving me home yesterday. I brushed my teeth :P

Christine: that’s a relief XD

Jeremy: did michael get home alright? he was pretty drunk!!

Christine smacked her phone against her forehead and mentally screamed. She should tell him. He was going to find out anyways, right? She might as well just be honest right away.

Christine: Michael and i

Before she could finish her typing, her phone vibrated, alerting her of another new message.

Christine: we should talk

Michael: I think ur right

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Okay, first, respond to Jeremy.

Christine: yeah I got him home!!! ((:

Was that obvious? Too enthusiastic? Would he find out something was off simply through the extra exclamation points and double-chinned emoji?

Whatever.

Next, she had to respond to Michael. And mentally prepare herself for the talk they were going to have.

Christine: should I go over? Or you come here?

What was she even going to say? That it was too weird? That it’d be wrong of them, because of Jeremy? That she wasn’t interested?

Was she interested?

She wasn’t even sure what she was feeling. That same anxiety and pressure was there from when she and Jeremy first started dating. When she was with Michael, she felt nerves flapping against her stomach. When he smiled, she felt relief.

Michael: sure, you can come over

Michael: im rlly hung over tho fml

Despite herself, she laughed. Maybe it was those nerves again.

Christine: I bet d:

Jeremy responded, but she couldn’t deal with that just yet. She had to go get ready.

 

Michael opened the front door wearing Ray Bans, his hoodie pulled tight against his face.

“Yo.” It was a weak ‘yo’.

Christine laughed, nervous. “Hey.”

“Come in,” Michael responded stiffly, shuffling aside to allow Christine entrance into his humble abode. He led her upstairs in awkward silence. She stood in the middle of his room in awkward silence.

“You can sit.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“O-okay.” She slowly sat at the farthest edge of his bed. Michael sat at his desk chair. He pulled off his Ray Bans, set them down on his desk. They made a loud slapping noise. It sounded louder than usual to him, anyways.

“So. I’m really hung over.”

“Yeah. From all the drinking.”

“Yeah. Drinking.”

“Y’know, you drank a lot,” Christine continued. “Like, a lot. And then you, like, yeah, you. Kissed me.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“And puked in my car.”

He let his head drop. “I know! I’m so sorry. Were you able to clean it up?”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. It doesn’t even smell like puke that much anymore!” Christine tried, and failed, to reassure him. Michael’s face was hot and uncomfortable.

“I’m really sorry about kissing you, too,” Michael said. “That was really awful of me.”

“That’s okay,” Christine whispered. She clicked her index fingers together. “It wasn’t too bad. The fact that you puked, like, right after. That was pretty bad!”

“No, no, no, noooo it wasn’t because you- no, no, noooo.”

Christine laughed at his distressed reaction. “It’s okay, Michael.”

“I swear, it wasn’t bad. It was hardly anything!”

“Right!”

“No big deal!”

“Well-“

“I know,” Michael sighed, his head falling into his hands. “I just…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. His eyes fell on his pipe and grinder. He looked back at Christine's quizzical expression. 

“...Do you wanna get high?”

Christine blinked. She stared, then shrugged.

“Sure.”

 

They eventually found themselves sprawled on Michael’s bed, under as many blankets as he had available. The pressure felt good against their bodies, and the blankets felt incredibly soft.

“I just washed them, too,” Michael said. “So they smell pretty good.”

“So good.”

“Pretty fuckin good.” He took in a deep breath. Christine followed suit.

“Lavender,” they both said, and they fell into waves of giggling.

The unison was hilarious, and Michael didn’t even know her that well, and he was saying exactly what she was thinking as if he knew her for ages, but he didn’t, and that was what was funny, the falseness of it, but trueness. She punched him against the shoulder as if to say, _oh you!_ , but she did it really gently, so it wouldn’t hurt. But what if it did hurt him? Or what if she did it harder than she intended, but she was high, so it felt like nothing, but it was actually something? She placed her hand, fingers uncurled, on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael laughed. “Chill dude, you punch like a butterfly.”

“What?! Butterflies have no fists!”

“How do you know?” he said.

She thought about it, about butterflies with fists, with little fingers, how weird it would be, and then she realized her hand was still on his arm, and how weird that was, but she didn’t move it, either. She liked the warmth of his arm on her hand. It traveled into her beating heart.

She curled her fingers against his hoodie’s sleeve. He rolled his head over to look at her.

“Let’s kiss again,” she whispered.

If they kissed again, maybe they would know. Maybe they would figure it out. 

“Okay,” he whispered back.

They kissed. It smelled like weed. Michael’s glasses made a loud, creaking noise. Christine pulled away and laughed.

“What?” Michael asked, and he was laughing, too.

“This is wrong!” Christine laughed. It was a harsh statement, but it wasn’t, because it was true, and she was laughing, so it made it sound less harsh, and she was high, and he was high, so he was laughing now, too. He was agreeing with her. Nodding.

“So wrong.”

“I don’t even think I like you!” she admitted. 

“And I like Jeremy!”

They laughed until their lungs were emptied of the nerves and air. Their laughs turned into soft giggles, then chuckles, and then, they were both just breathing.

Christine turned her body towards Michael. “You like Jeremy?”

His eyes were big, but innocent. Almost scared. “Yeah, I do,” he finally said. It was the first time he was able to say it out loud, to another human being. And announcing it made it all the more real. Realizing how long he had been holding it in made it heavier.

“Michael-“

“God,” he whispered, shoving his palms against his eyes. “Goddammit.”

“Hey,” she cooed, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“I know, I just- I’m sorry.” He paused, still wiping away at his eyes. “I just don’t want to cry. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Christine said. “Come here.”

He snuggled into her, and she wrapped her arms around him, scratching his back in an attempt to soothe him. It worked, and he really appreciated it. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and felt calmer already.

“You like Jeremy?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you… told him?”

“Of course not,” he grumbled, now pulling away from her. “You’re the first person I’ve told. And I’ve liked him since, like, middle school, probably.”

“Geez,” Christine grimaced. It must be tough, bottling your feelings like that. And of someone you see practically every day. “And you’ve never…?”

“No, never. I’ve never even insinuated,” Michael said. “I’m too scared of ruining our friendship.”

Christine nodded.

“I like him a lot,” Michael continued, “But I love our friendship even more. That’s why I helped him with his crush on you.”

Christine nodded again. Her eyes stayed fixed on Michael’s as she lost herself in a quick thought.

“What?” he asked.

Christine blinked, then shook her head. “Sorry, my brain, I… Jeremy really liked me?”

“Of course,” Michael said. “He was super infatuated with you.”

“Huh,” Christine mumbled. _Infatuated._   “I don’t think I felt that same way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why’d you go out with him?”

“I don’t know, I just thought that I liked him? And it felt like I _had_ to date him, you know? Like, it feels like when a guy and girl share any positive moment, they’re supposed to date.”

Michael laughed. “I get that. Heteronormativity is stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you… this isn’t me trying to be rude, but, have you ever liked anyone romantically before?”

“I don’t think so,” Christine said. “Even with, like, actors and actresses, it’s always been more like admiration.”

“Well,” Michael began, “I’m not sure how you feel about labels, but you should look into the term ‘aromantic’.”

“Aromantic,” Christine repeated.

Michael nodded. “Look into it.”

She whispered the term to herself again, made it stick. She’d look it up later.

She looked back at Michael. Tired, hung over Michael. She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled softly.

“You should tell him.”

Michael sighed. “Christine-“

“He likes you too,” Christine said, and she could see his heart skip a beat in the way his eyes flickered. “I think he likes you too.”

“How?” he whispered.

“The way you guys act together,” she said. “The way he looks at you. He likes you, he just probably doesn’t know.”

“I don’t want to fuck with that,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“So you’re just gonna keep holding it in?” Christine asked.

Michael looked at her. Tired. Hung over. Sad.

“I have to,” he shrugged.

“Think about it,” Christine said. A gentle nudge in what was hopefully the right direction.

Michael nodded. He would think about it. He would think about it for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a happy new year!


	10. Chapter 10

 

“Hey! What are you guys doing for Valentine’s Day?”

Christine looked up from her lunch to look at him. Michael gave him a quick glance before going back to his videogame.

“Why do you ask?” Christine asked.

Jeremy shrugged. “I thought we could do something. The three of us.”

Michael looked up from his videogame for a second time, his eyes darting quickly from looking at Jeremy to looking at Christine. He saw something glimmer in her eyes. It made his stomach tighten.

Christine hid her grin behind a reluctant pout. “Sorry. I’m busy on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really?” Jeremy asked, eyebrow raised, curious. “With who?”

Christine scoffed. “Not like that, dummy. My dad likes to take my mom and I on a Valentine’s Day date.”

Michael moved the analog stick under his sweaty thumb. He maneuvered his character carefully along the screen, stopping before a patch of unruly grass. He took a step into the grass.

“So, I guess it’ll just be you two.”

He was attacked. Cornered. He looked up from his 3DS screen, worried eyes behind his glasses. Jeremy looked at him, smile faltering.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh… I ran out of repel.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, laughing. “Just battle every single pokemon. Don’t be lame.”

“I’m not lame,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t have the patience of one-hit killing everything right now.”

“There’s no killing in Pokemon,” Christine reminded him.

“Sure.”

“Anyways, does that sound cool, Michael?” Jeremy continued. “You wanna hang out on Valentine’s Day? Video games and discounted chocolate?”

Michael went back to his game. “Sure. Only if you get me a teddy bear, too,” he joked.

“Pfft, of course. What kind of a date would I be?”

He killed it. One-hit KO, as usual. He stared at the EXP points he gained, and then they were gone. He was clicking the button so fast that all the words were just flashing by, and he was really just staring at one spot on the screen, not really taking anything in.

Did Jeremy care at all what it meant that they were hanging out on Valentine’s Day? Either of them could’ve tried to get a date to avoid being alone on Valentine’s Day, but they were spending it together. Which didn’t have to mean anything, of course. It probably didn’t. It was Jeremy. It probably didn’t.

He had to remind himself that.

As he regained control of his character, he could feel Christine trying not to explode across from him. He could only imagine all of the rad and frantic feelings of joy and happiness she was containing inside of her.

He would have to kill her for that.

The bell rang, signaling lunch’s end.

“Shit,” Jeremy whispered. “I really wanted a cookie. Do you think the lunch ladies will sell me one this late?”

“Go for it,” Christine said. “They all think you’re adorable, they’ll probably give you two for one.”

“They think I’m adorable?” Jeremy asked. His nose crinkled from his smile.

“Just go,” Christine said, and off he went.

She stood and began to gather up her wrappers. Michael snapped his 3DS shut and glared at her.

“What?”

“You know what!” he whined, standing and shoving his 3DS in his hoodie pocket. “You totally did that on purpose.”

“What?!”

“You bowed out of the Valentine’s Day thing to leave me and Jeremy alone.”

Christine shrugged, grabbing her lunch tray. “Didn’t want to be a cock-block.” She started walking towards the trash bin.

Michael huffed, grabbing his and jogging after her. “You suck.”

“ _You_ suck,” Christine repeated, sticking out her tongue as she dumped her trash in the trash bin. “It’s been, what, a month since you told me about-,” she paused, catching Michael’s expression. “Since you told me about that,” she continued. “And you haven’t done anything, have you?”

“No,” Michael admitted. “And I’m not going to.” He dumped his trash, too, and walked towards class.

Now it was Christine’s turn to jog after him. “Come on!” she said, too enthusiastic for Michael’s tastes. “It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s so perfect!”

The dreamy look in her eye killed him. Disgusted him, even. “We’re just hanging out, like we do every Valentine’s Day. We’re gonna get high, eat shitty Valentine’s Day candy, and talk about how single we are. Nothing’s gonna change.”

Christine pouted. “Nothing?”

“Well, he’s not crushing on you, so he won’t be crying about that.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If you want to miss your shot, then fine,” Christine sighed. She looked at his eyes again, her own eyes intense, filled with fire and hope. “But you shouldn’t give up your shot. Just go for it, Michael. Shoot your shot!”

Michael stared at her. The fire and hope was beginning to infect him. She was being way too much. He blinked, shook his head, and continued towards class, leaving Christine behind.

In the middle of the hallway, completely unaware of how embarrassing she was, Christine shouted, “Shoot, Michael, shoot!” while waving an arm in the air.

 

Michael arrived at Jeremy’s house at 4 pm on Wednesday. Valentine’s Day. He had in his hands a heart shaped box of chocolates and a pink aoxotl plush toy. This was all for irony, of course.

Mr. Heere opened the door for him. Upon seeing Michael, he frowned, pitiful.

“No plans on Valentine’s Day, huh Michael?”

Michael mimicked his expression. Except, his pity was real. “No plans on Valentine’s Day, huh Mr. Heere?”

Mr. Heere winced. “Ouch. Got me there. Come on in, Mike.”

Michael walked inside the Heere Residence. “Plans with Jere, then?”

“Of course,” Michael responded. “You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” Mr. Heere responded. He pointed up stairs. “He’s in his room.” He then leaned in, covering the side of his mouth with a flat palm. “Don’t tell him I ruined the surprise, but he got you something, too.”

Michael laughed. “Of course he did. Thanks, Mr. Heere.”

“Go get ‘im.”

Michael raced up the stairs. Despite himself, he was pretty excited. Sure, Valentine’s Day was a dumb holiday grossly exploited by their capitalist government, but, on the other hand, he really liked how pink everything was. He liked pink.

He knocked on Jeremy’s door, then quickly hid his presents behind his back. Soon, the door opened before him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he exclaimed, thrusting his presents out towards Jeremy. Michael was beaming, and Jeremy beamed back at him.

“Thanks,” he laughed, accepting the gifts. “Come in.”

Michael went directly for his designated bean bag chair. Jeremy slowly closed the door, examining the plush toy in his hand.

“This is great,” he laughed, grinning so widely at his axolotl plush that Michael almost exploded at the sight of his smile. Jeremy looked up at him with gleaming eyes. “Thanks so much, dude.”

“Pfft, no problem. Hopefully it’s a good replacement for until you get a real one.”

“It should hold me over,” Jeremy said, and he decidedly placed the axolotl plush on top of his tv screen.

“I really want one,” he said, admiring the plush.

“Do it,” Michael said. “Get one, right now.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he mumbled. He looked at Michael, and grinned. “I got you something.”

“So I heard.”

“Close your eyes!”

Michael did as told. Jeremy said nothing about his ears, though, and he could hear the creak of Jeremy’s closet door open. “I heard that.”

“Close your ears too, then, smartass.”

Michael did not obey those instructions. He laughed, though, and waited patiently.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

He opened his eyes, and Jeremy was holding a _huge_ teddy bear. Huge and huggable.

“Oh my god!” Michael exclaimed, jumping up and tearing the bear away from his hands. “This is, like, bigger than your average child. And way fluffier.”

“Okay, but, look at it!”

Michael stopped hugging it and examined the bear. This closer examination showed that the bear had patches sewn onto him. On his chest was a Legend of Zelda heart container. Michael turned the bear in his hands, and found a Pac-Man patch on his shoulder, a Pokeball on his foot, and a trans pride flag on his back, under his head (why didn’t teddy bears have necks?). Michael looked up at Jeremy, eyes beaming.

“This is so cool! I can’t believe you sew these patches on here!”

Jeremy held up his hands, and only then did Michael notice the skin colored small bandages wrapped around Jeremy’s finger tips. “My dad had to take over at some point, I kept pricking myself.”

Michael admired him. His best friend. He went back to hugging the shit out of his new bear. He buried his face in the soft, downy fabric.

“I love him,” Michael announced. “He is chubby and huggable, like me.”

“Exactly,” Jeremy said. “What’ll you name him?”

Michael thought for a second, then looked at Jeremy with an evil grin. “Jere Bear.”

“Ew,” Jeremy laughed. “Don’t do that.”

“I won’t,” Michael laughed. “I’ll name him, uh… Bruno.”

“Bruno?”

“Yeah, like Bruno Mars.”

“You like Bruno Mars?”

“Are you _kidding me?_ ” Michael exclaimed. “Have you heard his new album? It’s like fucking… it’s like everything good about the 90s.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

“They’re jams, dude. Can’t believe you haven’t heard his new album. Ashamed of you.”

“Sorry!”

“Start listening to something other than Nickelback.”

“I don’t listen to Nickelback!”

“Oh, sorry, I meant Evanescence.”

Jeremy glared at him, an attempt to look intimidating. His smile was breaking through, though, which foiled his intimidation attempt.

“Whatever. I’m not taking slack from the guy who listens to Smash Mouth.”

“What the fuck? Jere, Smash Mouth is top tier quality music. You know this.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Oh, here.” Jeremy grabbed a box of milk chocolate truffles. “These are for you, too.”

“Thanks,” Michael said. “These’ll be good when we’re high.”

“Let’s go eat first,” Jeremy said. “Maybe we’ll see people out on their Valentine’s Day dates.”

Michael laughed at the thought. They both began to head out the door. Michael waved the keys to his PT Cruiser in his hand.

“Driver decides the music.”

“Let me guess. Bruno Mars?”

“Bruno fuckin’ Mars.”

 

Rich sauntered into Jake's bedroom. He was done getting ready. His hair was all slicked back, and he felt like a million bucks. "What do ya think?"

Jake looked up at him. He had to do a double take between Rich and the phone in his hands. Finally, he laughed and he said, "What are you wearing?"

He was wearing his usual get up. A nice tank top, and some baggy, torn up jeans. To tie the outfit together, he was wearing a blue striped tie loosely around his neck. Personally, he felt it was the best part of his outfit. 

"Looks good, huh?"

"Where did you get the tie?"

Rich smirked. "I was hiding it in my backpack the whole day.

Jake laughed. "You look ridiculous," he said.

"Hey," Rich whined, walking over to Jake. "I just want to look good for you. Dickhead."

Jake chuckled, tossing his phone aside. "I meant you look ridiculously good." He reached out and grabbed the bottom of the tie, getting a nice grip on it. "Assface."

He gave the tie a good tug. However, since the tie was tied so loosely, rather than pull Rich towards him, as intended, the tie simply tightened around Rich's neck.

"Oh my god."

"You tryna kill me?!"

Jake was back to laughing his head off, and Rich was loosening the tie, the tips of his ears red.

"No, dumbass, I'm trying to kiss you."

Rich blushed even more. Were his shoulder's red, too?

Jake grabbed Rich's hand and tried this again. He pulled Rich towards him, and Rich sat on the edge of the bed. Jake placed a hand behind his head, fingers in hair.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

They leaned towards each other and kissed, Rich placing a hand on Jake's thigh, and Jake's finger's losing themselves in Rich's incredibly soft hair.

Jake always had a date on Valentine's Day. Since he always, at any given time during the school year, had a girl he was dating, or a girl he was going after. Rich managed to get dates on Valentine's Day, but they were always awkward, the girls only reluctantly going along with his date. This was the only Valentine's Day that really meant something to him.

Hopefully, Jake felt the same.

Rich pulled away from Jake, still blushing. "Damn."

Jake grinned. "I'm telling you. Valentine's Day is Jake's Day. I always score."

He winked, and Rich rolled his eyes, standing up from the bed.

"Ready?"

Jake sat up, furrowing his eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing. Let's just go."

"Oh, don't fucking play that, Rich," Jake said. "Somethin's bugging you. Spill."

Rich shrugged, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. He looked away from him, at the posters on Jake's wall, the guitar hidden behind a pile of clothes. His eyes finally landed on the full body mirror, and he stared at himself. Maybe the tie was lame. 

"I just know how you are on Valentine's Day, Jake. You're all cocky about your dates."

"So? I've gone on a lot of dates, big deal."

Rich sighed. "Must've been so tough on you."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Rich said. "I just... I dont want to be like your other dates, you know? I don't want you all bragging about me so you can dump me later."

"What?" Jake stared at him, completely clueless. Rich sighed.

"Whenever you start bragging about a girl, everyone knows you're gonna dump them soon. It's like you date for bragging rights."

"Jake stared at Rich. Was that true? He mentally listed all of the girls he's ever dated.

Shit. He was right. Rich was right.

Weird.

Jake didn't say anything for a while, so Rich spoke up again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get all in your shit. I just don't want it to be like that, y'know."

"It's not," Jake said, his voice filled with genuine worry, enough for Rich to finally look at him.

"Dammit."

"What?"

"I knew the moment I looked at your stupid face, I'd cave."

Jake laughed, standing up from his bed and walking towards Rich.

"Hey, you're different, okay? Things between you and me are different. Scary different."

"Scary?"

"Yeah," Jake said softly, grabbing Rich's hands. "I just feel different when I'm with you. It's pretty fucking weird, actually."

Rich snorted. "That's romantic."

Jake shrugged. "I try."

"C'mon, let's go," Rich said, turning around and heading out the room's door. "We're gonna miss our reservations."

"Oh, calm down!" Jake said, grabbing his keys from his desk. "In-n-Out doesn't take reservations."

 

Jeremy and Michael headed straight for the food court. Jeremy ordered a double cheese burger, Michael ordered a chili cheese dog. They shared a mountain of fries.

"So," Jeremy said, after taking a long sip of Code Red. "Have you seen anyone on their lame Valentine's Day dates."

Michael looked around. He didn't see very many couples. Just large groups of friends hanging out together, avoiding spending the night alone on Valentine's Day. Michael looked back at Jeremy. 

"Jeremy. I think we're the only ones on lame Valentine's Day dates."

He laughed. "Shut up!"

However, another couple soon found them. 

"Yo! Jerry, Mikey!"

The two boys looked up to see Jake and Rich. Jake was his usual good-looking self, though his hair did look a little more styled than usual. Rich was in a tank top. And a tie.

"Rich Goranski," Michael said. "Why the actual fuck are you wearing a tie with a tank top."

"Looks good, huh?" Rich said, flexing his muscles for the two boys. Jake stood next to Rich, slightly embarrassed, mostly amused.

"You guys on a date?" Jake asked.

"Yup!" Jeremy responded, no hesitation. Michael took a long uncomfortable sip of his cherry slushie.

"Are you guys on a date?" Jeremy asked jokingly.

"Duh," Jake asked. "What kind of a boyfriend doesn't take his boyfriend out on a movie-and-burgers date on Valentine's Day?"

"A lame one," Rich responded.

"But I am definitely not lame."

"Nah. You're a babe."

"A hunk," Jake added, wrapping his arm around Rich's shoulder.

Jeremy blinked. "Wait. Are you guys actually dating?"

"Jeremy Heere, we have literally kissed in the same hallway as you," Jake said flatly.

"Jeremy isn't the most perceptive human being," Michael explained.

"Duh," Rich responded. "Otherwise you two-" He stopped mid-sentence, catching Michael's glare. "Uhhh, so, cheeseburger, huh?"

Jeremy looked down at his half-eaten burger. "Uh, yeah."

"Haha... nice..."

Jake grabbed Rich's hand and dragged him away. "We're gonna continue our date. Later."

"Bye!" The two waved them off. Jeremy turned in his seat to face Michael again.

"Did you know they were dating?"

"Duh," Michael said. "I was like the first person to know, basically."

"Huh," Jeremy mumbled.

"Jeremy. Boys can date."

"I know that!" Jeremy exclaimed, looking offended. "I just... I dunno, I never thought Jake and Rich would get together."

"They're cute," Michael said, taking a bite of his cheese dog.

"I guess. I just never woulda thought, y'know? It's like... It's like you and Christine dating."

Michael almost choked on his food. He quickly swallowed his bite. "Me and Christine?"

"Right? It'd be so weird! My best friend and my ex? It'd suck!"

Michael nervously grabbed his slushie and sipped. Sipped and sipped and sipped.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

Michael winced, bringing his fingers to his temples. "Brain freeze."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I know I usually try and update on Sundays, but I've started school recently soooo updates are going to be random as heck. I have a busy schedule, so I don't know when I'll update. However, I really want to get this done! It's almost there (^: 
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me!


	11. Chapter 11

It was awful.

Jeremy didn’t mention the ‘Michael and Christine’ thing again, but the words echoed in Michael’s head throughout the day. And each time they echoed and bounced from corner of his mind to corner of his mind, his stomach would continue to fill up with guilt and dread. He felt absolutely terrible.

After the two boys ate, they began to wander the mall, heading to the nearest game store first, of course. Michael broke away from Jeremy as soon as he could, and stared at the games. He took in all the cover art, read all the titles in his head. Anything to keep his ideas from building up to the top of his skull and breaking through, spilling out, ruining everything.

He should tell him. He should tell him.

Definitely not.

“Michael.”

Michael jumped at Jeremy’s hand on his shoulder. Jeremy took his hand back and looked at him, confused.

“You good?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Michael said, pushing his glasses up from the tip of his nose. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking we should buy a Pokemon plush for Christine. She’s been playing your Mystery Dungeon game, right?”

“Y-yeah, she is.”

“How far is she?”

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

Jeremy lead him over to the pokemon plush toys. “Which should we get her?”

Michael shrugged, trying to remain as detached to this conversation as ever. He had to be careful now. Every time Christine’s name was mentioned, he had to try not to let his guilt spill out.

He saw the Pikachu plush, and picked it up. “Dude, this would be perfect.”

“Pikachu?”

“Yeah!” Michael exclaimed, all previous plans of detachment gone. “It’s the pokemon she got on Mystery Dungeon, and she likes to use him in Smash. It’ll be great.”

Jeremy beamed. “Okay, great!”

The two walked up to the register and paid for the toy. Rather than take it in a bag, Jeremy shoved it down the neck opening of Michael’s hoodie. Michael rested his chin against the top of Pikachu’s head.

Jeremy laughed. “Y’know, I’m so glad about you and Christine.”

Michael shoved his hands in his hoodie’s pocket. “Me and Christine?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “You used to not like her very much, which I didn’t really get. But now you guys are good friends!”

“Right,” Michael said. Pikachu felt heavy on his chest. He pulled him out. “Could you carry this?”

 

They arrived at Jeremy’s room with even more goodies at their disposal. Discounted chocolate, candy hearts, and even some Valentine’s Day cards, because Michael really wanted the tattoos.

“Let’s get high and eat this shit,” Michael said, plopping down on his bean bag chair.

“Hold on,” Jeremy said, before Michael could grab his pipe. “I want to finish Majora’s.”

“You’re almost done?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I got most of the masks.”

He booted up his game, and showed Michael his impressive inventory.

“You just need Fierce Deity,” Michael said, already finding himself enveloped in the screen before him. Jeremy nodded.

“Yup. I’m almost done.”

“Cool, I’ll just watch you and get started on these truffles.”

They talked for a while as Jeremy played, bringing up differences between the N64 and the 3DS version of the game, and whether they preferred one or the other. Eventually, though, they fell into a peaceful silence, both of the boys drawn into the video game world. Time flowed between the two of them at an even pace. Jeremy beat the game, and Michael was more than pleased to watch him do so.

Finally, the credits rolled. Michael looked over at Jeremy, opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Jeremy was staring at the screen, lips slightly parted, eyes glistening. Was he crying? God, that killed Michael. It was too damn cute. His eyes went from Jeremy’s eyes, to his furrowed eyebrows, to the unruly hair that partially hid those eyebrows. Too damn cute.

His admiration fell away, gave way to guilt. He couldn’t get Jeremy’s voice out of his head. _‘My best friend and my ex?’_

His guilt was rising again, tar in his stomach, acid in his throat. And looking at Jeremy was making it worse. But he couldn’t look away. He felt like stone.

The credits were over. Jeremy pushed his fingers against his eyes, rubbing the tiniest bit of tears. “Sorry. That ending just gets me, y’know?”

When Michael didn’t respond, Jeremy looked over at him. Michael looked sick again.

“What’s wrong?”

Michael winced. “Shit.”

“What?”

Michael ran his thumb across his upper-lip, then bit at it. He was panicky.

“Michael,” Jeremy said. “What’s wrong?”

“Jeremy,” Michael began, and he felt like the floor would fall away from them, drop them to the middle of the earth. “I have to tell you something.”

“Michael, you’re freaking me out.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just-“ He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Was he sweating? “This is hard for me to say.”

Jeremy turned in his bean bag chair and scooted closer to him, placing a hand on his knee. “Dude, it’s okay. I just wanna know what’s bugging you, so you can feel better.”

Michael looked at him. Unruly hair. Freckles. He was so wonderful. Why did he have to fuck everything up?

Jeremy’s hand felt heavy on his knee.

“Jeremy,” Michael began, shaky. “I’m… Christine and I kissed.”

He didn’t even react. He just stared at him, processing, probably not believing it.

“It was just once,” Michael continued, his voice louder, rambling. “At the party. Well, it was after the party, when she took me home, I kissed her and then I vomited. I was just drunk, you know? I drank so much that night-“

“Just once?” Jeremy asked.

Michael’s hands were still raised, gesturing. He slowly let them drop. “Just once.” Then, he winced. “That’s not true. It was twice.”

“Twice?” Jeremy repeated, creaky voice almost yelling.

He panicked. “But it didn’t mean anything! We don’t even like each other! The second time was just to make sure we didn’t like each other.”

“When did this happen? After the party?”

“Yeah-“

“The party in _January?_ ”

Michael’s stomach dropped. This was not good. “Yes-“

“And you didn’t even tell me?!” Jeremy stretched his legs out, pushing his bean bag chair away from Michael’s. His face was beginning to go red. He looked sick.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal!” Michael said.

“You didn’t think it was a big deal?” Jeremy said, standing up. He didn’t want to sit anymore. He had to stand. Everything in his body ached at him to stand up. His sweaty palms, his beating heart. “You kissed Christine!”

“So?! It didn’t mean anything!” Michael stood up, close enough to Jeremy that his anger radiated and he felt it, and it stung.

“Then why?” Jeremy asked. “Why the fuck would you do that, Michael?”

“Who cares! It doesn’t matter, it happened, okay?”

“It does matter, Michael! It matters to me!”

Michael pressed his lips together, silent. His silence only angered Jeremy more.

“Why did you kiss her?”

Michael couldn’t look at him.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

“ _Michael! Why?!_ ”

“Because I like you!” Michael shouted, angry. “I fucking like you, you asshole!”

He wasn’t even horrified with what he’d just said. He was angry. He was angry that it had to work out this way. That _this_ was how he was telling Jeremy the truth. In the middle of an argument. Over Christine Canigula.

“Bullshit.”

Michael inhaled sharply. “What?”

“This is _bullshit_ , Michael,” Jeremy repeated, louder, clearer. He sighed, shaking his head and turning around. “Leave.”

The anger surrounding him disappeared, and replaced itself with the all too familiar fear of losing Jeremy. Of losing his best friend. “What?”

“Leave!” Jeremy repeated, louder. “I… I don’t want you here right now, okay? I’m pissed, I’m confused, I’m…. just go.”

Michael stared at him. At the back of his head, at his tense shoulders. He wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

And he was asking him to leave?

Michael sighed, and he felt the anger return. He was angry at himself.

He turned around and walked out, shutting the door behind him, and he kept walking, he couldn’t stop, he just walked. And then he got in his car and drove.

This was bullshit.

 

The doorbell rang. Christine, already in Disney pajamas and bunny slippers, darted downstairs. At first, she thought it might’ve been her parents, who’d forgotten the house keys on the kitchen counter. She looked through the peephole and discovered otherwise.

She quickly opened the door. Michael’s eyes were red. He looked like a mess, and then some.

“Michael,” she said, flicking the living room light on. “What’s…”

“I told him.”

At first, she didn’t get him. But when she did, when she understood he meant Jeremy, that he had told Jeremy, and she realized that him looking like an emotional wreck was a result of that, she felt awful. “Oh.”

“I told him about us,” he said, voice small, but still big enough to be angry. Angry, but sad. Angry, but tired.

“About us?” Christine asked, and it took her another moment. The kiss. “Is he… I mean, it’s not a big deal-“

“It is a big deal, Christine,” Michael said, bringing his fingers to his eyes. “We kissed, twice, a month ago, and I didn’t tell him. I kept that from him.”

“I-I’m sure he’ll understand-“

“I told him I liked him, and he kicked me out.”

Christine’s chest hurt. “Michael-“

“This is all your fault,” Michael spat.

Christine brought a hand to her chest, taken aback. “ _My_ fault?”

“If you hadn’t pressured me into telling him, this wouldn’t have happened. You kept pushing me to tell him, kept making me feel like it would all work out.” He pulled his hands out of his hoodie pocket and gestured at himself. “I spent two hours on the I-95 driving and crying my fucking eyes out. Worked out real swell, huh?”

She didn’t know what to say. She felt awful. “I’m sorry, Michael. Let’s just-“

“No,” Michael cut her off. “Let’s nothing, Christine. Stay out of this, alright? Stay _away_ from this.” He turned away, heading towards his car. “Good night.”

She watched his car drive away. It was cold outside, enough to bring goosebumps to her skin, even the skin under her clothes. Finally, she closed the door, her entire body cold and heavy. Michael's voice rang loud in her head. 

This is all your fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! I'm very glad to be posting within a month of the last update!
> 
> I'm officially five weeks ahead on one of my online courses, so I really only have two classes, a job, and an internship to worry about!! aint that swell!!
> 
> thanks to everyone who continue to comment, who continue to tell me about their Emotions when they read my fic. thank you to everyone still reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Christine drummed her fingers against her steering wheel. Her eyes darted towards the clock on her dashboard.

7:13 a.m.

Her eyes then darted to Jeremy’s house. To his front door. At this rate, she was going to be late. She was _never_ late.

At least she could go straight to school from Jeremy’s. She couldn’t stop at Michael’s. It was clear he wouldn’t want a ride from her. The thought made her chest feel hot, as if boiling water had splashed against it, blistering her skin. A few deep inhales made the feeling go away, at least by a bit.

But the feeling threatened to come back with every passing second that the door to Jeremy's house remained closed. Maybe he would never come outside. Maybe, he'd already left.

The thought horrified Christine. She didn’t want to believe that. At this rate, she was going to be late, and she was  _never_ late, but she couldn't will herself to leave. Leaving would be like giving up on their friendship, on any chance of fixing it. She couldn't leave.

The front door began to open. Her throat tightened.

She sighed, shaky. It was just Mr. Heere.

He jogged over to her car, still in his plaid pajama pants and Batman T-shirt. She rolled down her window and smiled weakly at him.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Christine,” Mr. Heere responded, sleep still on his voice. “Jeremy took off already. Took the bus.”

He took the bus?! “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

Mr. Heere nodded at her, smiling, worried. She gave him a faint wave as she rolled up the windows.

Despite the cold, her skin was in flames. 

 

He was the first one off the bus.

It had been a long while since Jeremy had taken the bus. The second he had stepped on it, he remembered why he hated it so much. The crowdedness. The lack of seatbelts. The rowdy kids in the back making everyone feel like shit. The fact that someone would always sit next to him and bump into him while they sat. Unless he sat in the front. The front was reserved for losers, seats most people avoided. He sat there, anyways. He already felt like an utter loser, and he didn't feel like dealing with any human contact.

As soon as he was off the bus, he headed for the school doors, eager to lock himself in a bathroom stall and sit there and relax. Calm down. Shake the horrible feeling you get when you’re surrounded by people and noise and chaos, but you still feel alone and vulnerable.

He pushed the school doors open and almost ran into Rich and Jake.

“Yo, Jerry!” Rich exclaimed. Jeremy stopped in his tracks, digging his nails into his palms.

“We were just gonna snag breakfast. It’s chocolate chip pancake day,” Jake said, grinning. For some reason, his grin annoyed Jeremy. His stupid, perfect grin. 

“Sorry,” Jeremy muttered, “I’ll pass.”

Jeremy saw a quick flash of worry in Jake’s eyes, and even _that_ annoyed him. Rich, on the other hand, was completely unfazed.

“No prob,” he said. “Where’s Mikey?”

Jeremy felt ice under his skin, lodged in his ribs. “I don’t know.”

Rich raised an eyebrow. “That’s weird, you guys are always-“

“I said I don’t know where he is, alright?” Jeremy snapped. “I don’t always have to know where he is!”

He knew he was being a complete jackass. Before he could see their reactions to his anger, he stormed off, finding his way to the nearest bathroom.

Luckily, the bathroom was empty. He went to the nearest stall, slammed the door behind him, but it slammed hard enough to bounce against the frame and away from him. This frustrated him. Everything frustrated him.

He finally locked the door, sat on the toilet, and buried his face in his hands. He let out a long, shaky breath.

Everything was awful. Terrible. Heinous.

He felt so alone. So _fucking_ alone. Being on that bus had taken a toll on him. Surrounded by all of those people, all of those strangers, had him searching for comfort, and he knew where he usually found that comfort. In his friends. But he was losing those friends, and it was all his fault, really. He was the one who yelled at Michael. 

Everything was too fucked up. He couldn't see Michael, after what he'd said, after having yelled at him for what he'd said. And he didn't want to see Christine, either. He was angry at both of them for having kept secrets from him, when they were supposed to be friends. He  _wanted_ them to be friends. 

But he just couldn’t fathom the idea of facing either of them. The thought horrified him, made him dizzy, made his feet disappear from under him, his body feel fuzzy and gone. He was tired. He could feel the heavy under his eyes, the red drilled around them. His head was pounding, just the same as the beating stuck in his throat. If he tried repressing it, it found itself somewhere else, either filling his eyes with a layer of tears, or shaking the contents of his stomach.

Thinking about it all brought him close to tears. Holding it in did the same. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do.

Confused. Tired. Sad. Angry.

Everything was too fucked up. 

The bell rung, and he jumped at the shrill noise banging his ear drums. He sighed, tried to steady his breathing.

He would just float through today. He could do that, sure. He would float through the day, then he'd be home, and then, he could sleep. He took another breath to prepare himself before unlocking the stall door and heading out.

As soon as he walked out, he looked up, and locked eyes with Christine Canigula.

Shit. Why did he look up? Why didn’t he just stare at his shoes, like he'd planned?

He wasn’t moving. And neither was Christine. They stood across from each other, students moving between them.

“Dude. Can you move? I gotta piss.”

Jeremy walked off, focusing on the lockers, the posters, anything to avoid eye contact with anyone. He could feel Christine’s gaze on him, burning his skin. His cheeks were red hot.

He kept walking.

Christine stared after him. Waves of guilt threatened to pummel her onto the ground. Her legs felt weak. She looked around, frantic. She didn’t see Michael anywhere.

The school bell rang again. She was late.

 

It was the longest day of school thus far.

Neither of the three kids occupied their usual lunch table. Jeremy ate at the back of the school building, a few feet away from the dumpster. At least he could easily toss his trash afterwards.

Christine saw the empty table and decided to eat her lunch in the hallway. She scarfed the food down in under five minutes, then sat in a bathroom stall and read the scribbles on the stall as the minutes ticked by. _Call Caleb for Kale_. _Will Pet Dogs for Dough_. An unfinished game of hangman.

Michael didn’t show up for school that day.

Christine got home and immediately went for her room. She dropped her bag on the floor and dove into her bed, feeling heavy and tired and lousy. She wanted to nap, but she couldn’t. Her body was cruel, wouldn't allow her to sleep. It wanted her awake and worrying. The only thing she could think to do to keep her mind off things was play Pokemon. She’d have to return the video game soon, someway or another.

It did depress her, working with Pokemon Michael, who was treating her as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t pressured him into rashly admitting his feelings to Pokemon Jeremy. Pokemon Michael still saw her as his best friend and partner in crime. It was both comforting, and saddening.

She spent the rest of the evening playing video games. She battled Groudon, and upon encountering a falling star that was preparing to kill her and her Pokemon family, she got rid of that, too. There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish here. If only that fact could transfer to the real world. 

She was nearing the end of the story. She could feel it. Ending this adventure would be sad, for sure, though she wasn't prepared for how strongly she felt for this game.

After saving the world, she had to say goodbye to everyone. Including Cyndaquil Michael.

“Why do you have to leave?” Cyndaquil Michael asked her. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Yes,” Pikachu Christine responded. “You will always be my friend, Michael. I will never forget you.”

The dialogue, the somber music, the fact that she had been playing for nearly four hours straight. Christine’s chest felt heavy. Her eyes stung. Was she really going to cry over the ending to a Pokemon game?

“Your friend is heartbroken,” the game's dialogue read, and Christine could feel her own broken heart. “A true friend… A friend for life… You finally realize it now… If you wish… And wish very strongly… Perhaps you will meet again.”

The credits rolled. Christine dropped the DS onto her chest and inhaled, lower lip quivering. Tears were streaming down her face.

She couldn’t believe it. She was crying.

She waited until the credits were over, acknowledging each name that appeared on the screen and thanking them for such a wonderful game. She watched the after-credit scene, and couldn’t help but smile, and tear up some more. It was a great ending for a great game.

She wanted to tell Jeremy and Michael all about how much she loved this game. And she was torn when she realized she couldn’t do that.

Michael’s words rang in her head. _Stay out of this. This is all your fault._

Christine sat up and clicked the DS shut, setting it besides her. She pushed her hands on her face, wiping her cheeks.

No. This wasn’t her fault, and she wasn’t staying out of this. No fricken' way.

She had to do something to help. She had to do something to save all of their friendships.

This wasn’t going to be their goodbye. She wouldn’t allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure if anyone noticed, but there is no longer a question mark under the chapter numbers. it's a '14' now.   
> two more chapters to go.  
> and then this baby is done.
> 
> :^)


	13. Chapter 13

Jeremy walked outside at an impossibly early hour. The air was freezing, and the sun wasn’t even out. The darkness outside made him want to go back inside, curl up in bed for another few hours. He wasn’t exactly excited for school, anyways.

He hid the lower half of his face in his scarf, shoved his gloved hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and slowly walked off his porch.

A car honked its horn. Jeremy was two steps off his porch when a Nissan Sentra began parking in his driveway.

Christine rolled down her window. Jeremy stared. He wasn’t really sure what to do.

“Get in.”

Jeremy exhaled, his breath creating a puff of white in the dark air. “I’m talking the bus.”

“Jeremy,” Christine said, both sharp and desperate. “Get in the car.”

It was cold outside. At least the car would be warm. And if anything, the tension would be enough to make him sweat.

He got in Christine’s car, his stomach curling into a muddy storm. His hands were sweating under his gloves. He couldn’t look at Christine.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he said.

And silence.

Jeremy jiggled his leg, anxious.

“I know Michael told you about the kiss.”

More silence. Every breath Jeremy took felt weird leaving and entering his nose.

“I’m really sorry we kept that from you.”

He looked over at her. She looked into his tired eyes with her own worried ones.

“Why?” Jeremy asked, voice small. “I mean, how did it…?”

“The first time, he was drunk,” Christine said. “It was really awkward. He puked right after. In my car.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “He _puked_ in the _Sentra?_ ”

Christine giggled, feeling some of the tension in the air fall away. Maybe it was too early to tell, but something twisted in her chest, made her feel that things would be okay.

“He did, and I only cried about it for a little bit.”

“I’m proud of you,” Jeremy joked. Christine smiled at him, feeling warm.

“The second time,” Christine went on, her voice careful, “it was in his room, and we were high, and I asked him if we could. I wanted to see if I liked him.”

Jeremy stared at her.

“I don’t.”

Relief flashed in his eyes, before he glanced away, nervous.

“That was it,” she said, voice firm. “Neither of us ever talked about it again. Please don’t be upset about it.”

“I’m not anymore,” Jeremy admitted. “When Michael told me, it was just a lot at the time.”

Christine nodded. “He also told you…” She drifted off, watching as Jeremy’s cheeks went red.

“He really likes you, Jeremy,” Christine said. “It must be killing him that you’re not talking to him.”

“I know,” Jeremy said, voice wavering slightly. Christine barely caught it. “But…”

Jeremy turned his face to look at her. He looked sick.

“I’m so scared, Christine.”

She felt something inside her falter with the sound of his voice. She immediately reached out her arm, placing her hand on his arm and squeezing gently.

“What are you scared of?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

It took him a while to answer. Christine waited patiently, rubbing her thumb back and forth against his arm. Even through his jacket and his sweatshirt, he could feel it. It felt good. It felt steady.

“I like him so much,” Jeremy finally said. Almost in a whisper.

“He likes you too, Jeremy.”

“I know, but I – “ He shook his head, then looked over at Christine, his eyes both tired and wide awake. “I was so awful to him, Christine.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, which only deepened the worry that brimmed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“When I was squipped,” he began, shaky. “When I was squipped, I – I just blocked him out, you know? We’ve been friends for _years_ , and I just abandoned him, and for what? Popularity?” He laughed. “I’m a fucking piece of shit.”

“Jeremy – “

“I feel so guilty,” Jeremy said. “I don’t… I don’t deserve him, Christine.”

“Jeremy,” She said his name with a soft voice, the kind of voice that got you out of bed when you couldn’t, for the life of you, crawl out on your own. “That wasn’t your fault. The Squip, he – “

“It _was_ my fault,” Jeremy cut her off, shaking his head. “I didn’t have to listen to him. I could’ve chosen Michael over him. But I didn’t.”

“He was abusive,” Christine said.

It was the first time Jeremy had ever heard this. It was a relief, that someone else saw it as he did. But it was also horrifying. Hearing Christine say it made it real.

Christine’s voice brought him back. “He manipulated you, Jeremy. You can’t blame yourself for being the victim to the Squip’s abusive behavior. You can’t feel guilty for that.

“Jeremy.”

At the sound of his name, he turned to look at her, tears brimming his eyes.

“You have to let yourself move forward. You have to let yourself be happy.”

Jeremy wiped his palms against his eyes, laughing nervously.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m… When we were dating,” Jeremy began, “I don’t think I actually liked you.”

Christine stared at him. Jeremy was about to spit out another apology, afraid to hurt her further, when a grin spread across her face, and she giggled. And then straight up laughed in his face.

Was this a nervous breakdown?

“Christine?”

Christine stifled her laughter behind her hand. “I’m sorry, Jeremy, it’s just… I didn’t like you either!”

Jeremy gave her a look of surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah! I just felt like we had to date, so I went with it.”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to laugh. A purely nervous laugh, but also one filled with relief.

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“Crazy.”

“I thought I liked you,” he continued. “And that’s what lead into the whole Squip thing. But as everything went on, I could just tell my feelings for you weren’t romantic. I think I just really, really wanted to be your friend?”

“Same!”

Jeremy smiled at her before going on. “And I also realized how much I liked Michael.”

Jeremy looked down at his hands. Thinking about the past made him dizzy. Speaking about it was a whole other playing field.

“It’s okay,” Christine said. And that voice. The reassurance and care. It gave Jeremy the strength to talk. To begin moving forward.

“The Squip was persistent. I never said anything about Michael, but he was inside my brain, you know? He knew. He knew before I even did. So, he started messing with my perception of things. Michael was gone, I wouldn’t hear from him, and all the Squip would let me think about was you, and other girls, he kept saying I didn’t need Michael, that Michael didn’t really care about me, that he was jealous – “

Jeremy buried his spinning head in his gloved hands.

“And I fell for it!”

He felt Christine’s hand rubbing his back. He took in deep breaths and focused on Christine’s voice.

“That’s not your fault,” she said. “The Squip was messing with your head, invading your privacy Anyone would’ve reacted similarly. I mean, Rich burnt down a fucking house.”

Despite himself, Jeremy laughed at that. It helped him calm down. He sat up and looked at Christine.

“I’m sorry I went out with you even though I didn’t really like you.”

Christine smiled softly. “Ditto.”

She held out her arms, and Jeremy hugged her, albeit an awkward hug crammed inside a Nissan Sentra, but a much-needed hug, too. Jeremy pulled away, but Christine grabbed at his shoulders.

“You need to talk to Michael. He deserves it.” She gave him an encouraging look. “You deserve it.”

“I know,” Jeremy said, nodding. Christine let him go, and he sat back, sighing. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One! More! Chapter! Left!! holy shite. it truly has been a wild ride.
> 
> This was a Really Good chapter to write. Resolutions are always so relieving. idk
> 
> I'll save all of my goodbyes for next week! Thanks for staying with me, and for all the great comments!
> 
>  
> 
> I already have this ending written, but I wish it was as good as Bikini Bottom Day Reprise :/


	14. Chapter 14

Michael wasn’t at school that day. Having patched things up with Christine had made the school day more pleasant than the previous day, but Michael’s absence was notable throughout the day.

After school, Jeremy walked straight to his house. Christine offered him a ride, but he declined. He needed to walk there to clear his head, and to clear the anxiety bubbling in his chest and preventing his voice from escaping his throat.

Instead of knocking at the front door, Jeremy snuck into Michael’s backyard and found the ladder they’d sometimes use to avoid Michael’s parents and sneak straight into Michael’s room. He positioned the ladder next to Michael’s window and climbed. He climbed, and reached the top. He reached the top, and held out his fist. Finally, he knocked.

For a while, no one appeared, and the thought that Michael might not be home made Jeremy’s stomach twist in a knot of disappointment. The thought that Michael was ignoring him made it twist tighter. He knocked again, and shortly after, he saw the curtains part, and then, Michael.

The knot was still there, twisting into a different kind of knot. “Hey,” Jeremy said, even though he knew Michael couldn’t hear him.

Michael’s eyes widened, and he shut the curtains. Jeremy exhaled. Disappointed flooded his body. Of course he wouldn't want to talk to him. Of course. He began to climb down.

Half way down, he heard Michael’s window click and slide open. Jeremy peered up. Michael was staring down at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Michael said, looking confused. A bit of his bed head escaped his hoodie. “Did you want to…”

“Yeah, could I?”

Michael hesitated, and it twisted the knot inside Jeremy's stomach. “Sure.”

Jeremy climbed back up, and Michael moved aside so that Jeremy could crawl through the window and roll onto his bed. When he awkwardly did so, Michael was standing, hands shoved in his hoodie’s pocket.

After Jeremy was done closing the window, he stood up from the bed. “I was afraid you weren’t gonna let me in.”

“I was just changing,” Michael said, turning to sit on his desk chair. Jeremy stayed where he was, not really sure what to do.

Well, there was one place to start.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Jeremy said. Michael looked away, still hurt.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. He sat down at the edge of Michael’s bed, now directly across from him. “It was really shitty.”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah. It was shitty.”

Jeremy laughed, nervous. “It was just a lot, you know? A lot to, uh, take in.”

“I know,” he said, sounding embarrassed, disappointed. It broke Jeremy’s heart.

Jeremy fell silent, sure of what to say, but unsure how to say it, how to find the courage to voice it. Finally, Michael sighed.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Jeremy blinked. “Wha-“

“If you’re going to be weird about it – “ he hesitated, “ a-about me liking you, then maybe you should just go, Jeremy.”

He panicked. “Michael, that’s not it!”

“You literally look like you’re in pain to be here, Jeremy.”

“That’s just because I’m an awkward piece of shit, and I can’t get my words out!”

“Just say what’s on your mind, Jeremy.”

Jeremy stared at Michael. At Michael’s frown, his furrowed eyebrows, his steel eyes. As if he was expecting the worst. Jeremy sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said tha-“

“Hear me out!” Jeremy said. “If I don’t say this now, nothing between us will ever work.”

Michael slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. But his face softened.

“I’m sorry about everything.” When Michael didn’t interrupt him, he continued. “I’m sorry I ignored you last semester. I’m sorry I left you like that at the party. I’m sorry I acted like years of friendship meant nothing to me, 'cause it means everything to me.” Jeremy locked eyes with Michael, and he could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He didn’t try and stop them; it’d make it worse.

“I’m sorry I was a shitty friend.”

Michael gave him a warm smile, sitting forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize for that, dude. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But still….”

“And,” Michael cut him off before he could do any more apologizing. “And I forgave you a long time ago.”

Jeremy smiled wide. A laugh escaped him. It felt good to have patched things up with Christine. And now, it felt even better to have apologized to Michael, who deserved an apology a long time ago. It was crazy how relieved he felt. 

“You’re crying,” Michael said. 

“You’re crying, too!”

“So?”

They both laughed, wiping their fingers against their misty eyes.

Jeremy took in a shaky breath and stared into his best friend’s eyes.

“I like you too.”

Michael stared at him with wide, wide eyes.

“I’m sorry about the way I reacted when you first told me, I just freaked. I was so scared, because I like you, too, but I felt guilty, still, about everything that happened between us. I never really cleared the air between us, and it felt wrong to ask you to be my boyfriend without apologizing for all of that.”

Michael was still staring at him. And he was grinning. He wasn’t saying anything, which was making Jeremy nervous, but he was smiling, so that was something, right? Then why wasn’t the buzzing in Jeremy’s stomach settling? Why did he feel so light against his chest?

Finally, Michael spoke. “Boyfriend?”

Jeremy laughed, letting go of the nervous air in his stomach. “Yeah.”

Before he knew it, Michael had tackled him onto the bed, laughing. Jeremy yelped in surprise, but then fell into laughter, too, because Michael was laughing, and because he couldn’t contain the buzzing inside of him for much longer. Michael was hugging him, and he was laughing, and they were laughing, and it felt good. It felt good to be okay together.

Michael pulled away from Jeremy and looked into his eyes, cheeks flushed. “This is crazy.”

“It’s crazy,” Jeremy agreed.

“I was so afraid things were going to be weird,” Michael admitted. “I was so afraid you thought it was gross I liked you, or that you wouldn’t support me being gay, even though you supported me when I came out as trans, but you never know with people, you know? Sorry, I was so afraid.”

“It’s okay,” Jeremy said, almost in a whisper. “You had a reason to be afraid. I didn’t handle any of this all that great.”

“Neither did I,” Michael said. “But now… you know that I like you.” He was beaming at him.

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile back. “And you know that I like you, too.”

“I’ve been waiting forever to tell you this. It feels good.”

“Yeah. I haven’t felt this good, ever.”

Michael pushed Jeremy’s hair away from his forehead, and he kissed him between his eyebrows. He pulled away, shy all of a sudden, and kept his hand in his hair, but Jeremy grabbed it. And held it in his own.

He brought Michael’s hand to his lips and pressed his lips against their fingers. “You know that you are my favorite person, right? That’s never gonna change.”

Michael grinned. “You’re my favowite pewson, too, Jewemy.”

“Gross.”

“You’re holding my hand. You’re gross _and_ gay.”

The boys stayed in Michael’s bed, hands clasped together, teasing each other, kissing foreheads and cheeks and fingers. Until they drifted into an unexpected but much needed sleep, fingers still intertwined.

 

Christine found herself, once again, answering the front door in Disney pajamas. It was Michael. When she saw him, her throat tensed with nervous energy.

“Hi,” she said, voice coming out weak. She didn’t mean it to, but last time she’d seen him, he’d yelled at her. The memory was fresh in her brain. 

Michael knew this, and gave her an apologetic look. “Hi. Listen, I’m so sorry for the other night. I was angry, and I had to be angry at someone other than myself, and I ended up pushing that all on you. That was fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

Christine felt such relief pass through her, she almost had to sit down. That same feeling she had felt with Jeremy, where she knew things would be okay, she was feeling with Michael, and it was overwhelming. Everything would be alright.

“Apology accepted.” And all the tension she’d been feeling for the past few days fell away.

Michael smiled at her. “I’m glad.”

After a beat of silence passed between them, Christine just _had_ to ask, “Did Jeremy…?” She couldn’t help herself.

Michael laughed. “Yeah. He’s actually in the car, with your Valentine’s Day present.”

“Whaaa?”

Michael turned around and motioned for Jeremy to come over. He exited the passenger side and, after going around the car, Christine could make out a distinct yellow plush in his hands.

“Oh my god, Pikachu!”

Once Jeremy reached them, he held out Christine’s present, and she immediately grabbed it and hugged the life out of it. Jeremy and Michael looked at each other and laughed, happy that Christine liked their present and, most of all, happy that they were standing there, the three of them, happy and okay.

Christine looked at the two of them, eyes darting from one to the other as a smile spread across her face. Jeremy noticed this, and his face went red.

“We’re, uh, we’re..... boyfriends,” he confirmed.

Christine squealed. “Yes! I wanted to ask, but I didn’t wanna be nosy, but – yay!”

“I kind of wanted to not say anything and just start holding hands and being all romantic just to see what you’d do,” Michael admitted.

“I’d explode,” Christine said. She gave Pikachu a squeeze and stepped back. “Come in! I’ll tell you guys about how I finished Pokemon Mystery Dungeon.”

“Did you cry?” both Michael and Jeremy asked. They both knew the answer. Christine smirked.

“Just come inside and I’ll tell you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! I actually finished this thing! Every time I start a project, 70% of me knows I won't finish it, but the other 30% of me persevered and got this shit done!
> 
> Thank you to every one who stuck with me from day one. Thank you to everyone who barely started reading this a couple of weeks ago but binged it anyways and are now here to read the ending. Thank you to everyone who may read this in the future. Most importantly: thank you to everyone who supported me by commenting/reblogging/etc!
> 
> I'm planning on writing another BMC fic that'll kind of be my own take on the events on the musical. It'll be pretty different from this one. It'll be a little more serious? I'm super swamped right now, and I'm planning on doing classes + job + job 2.0 during the summer, so I have no idea when/if that'll be ready to publish. If you'd like to keep tabs on me, I'm @thecutestprince on tumblr/twitter/instagram. If you'd like to buy me a coffee, I've got a link for that too: http://ko-fi.com/thecutestprince
> 
> One last time: thank you for your support!


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